


Falling In

by raelee514



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Love, M/M, thomas pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 00:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 76,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12243630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raelee514/pseuds/raelee514
Summary: “Never thought you were the type to play in the rain?”  he chuckled.“I’m not jumping in puddles, Jimmy.”“Close enough for a stuffy guy like you, though isn’t it,”  Jimmy’s voice was laced with amusement.





	1. Justice Served

**Author's Note:**

> Here I go again... they just never shut up.

Thomas breathed in the damp air greedily. It was the first time he stepped outside since the fair. It was raining lightly, but the mist of it felt pleasant against his face. He tilted his up into the rain and allowed it to hit him. Breathing in and out a few times, he inhaled the smell of spring and the rain around him. And he crunched the dirt under his feet. It felt rejuvenating to be standing and feeling the elements on his skin. After having been stuck inside for far too long. Even the gray clouds seemed beautiful. Gray days were always days he enjoyed, especially when it poured. He held up his hand to the rain and wondered if it would start to fall harder. 

“What are you up to, Mr. Barrow?” 

Jimmy’s voice surprised him, but he was able to hide it. He turned and saw Jimmy standing in the alcove where Thomas usually stood during his smoke breaks. He felt his cheeks heat at the sight of him and was grateful for the rain on his cheeks. Perhaps it would lighten his blush. Jimmy leaned against the wall at an angle, his arms crossed against his chest. He was looking right at Thomas but what gave Thomas pause was that he was smiling. After a year of hatred, of snarks and snipes, of scowls and declarations of hate it felt quite surreal to Thomas to see Jimmy smile in his direction. 

“Never thought you were the type to play in the rain?” he chuckled. 

“I’m not jumping in puddles, Jimmy.”

“Close enough for a stuffy guy like you, though isn’t it,” Jimmy’s voice was laced with amusement. 

“After staring at walls for a week, this is almost paradise.” 

Amusement faded quickly to guilt on Jimmy’s features, and he looked away from Thomas. Thomas swallowed a sigh at the sight of it. He was no fool. He knew it was guilt about his wounds that had brought Jimmy to him. It was a transitory thing, in time Jimmy wouldn't speak to him as if they were friends. Perhaps the hatred wouldn’t return, but they would never be close. How could they be? Thomas pushed away his guilt about the kiss as his mind scrambled to try to make sense of what he’d been thinking. The truth was emotion and not thought was what drove him to Jimmy’s room, and he regretted it. 

“I probably should step out of it…” Thomas hurried on to say, afraid maybe the guilt would make Jimmy leave. He stepped into the alcove and fished in his pockets for his cigarettes.

“Now, that, that’s what one expects of you when you’re — well anywhere really,” Jimmy said a bit of laughter back in his voice. “Give one here, then.”

It wasn't a question, and Thomas decided there was no reason to ignore the command. He fished out two cigarettes and decided to light them both. He lifted one up and offered it to Jimmy. Jimmy took it, and their hands brushed — and Thomas hoped the jolt he felt from the touch wasn’t noticeable. He was uncomfortable, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with Jimmy standing right in front of him. He was quite close, and Thomas realized the body heat he felt wasn’t his imagination sparked by hopeful thinking. 

Jimmy stepped back a pace after taking the cigarette, but he continued to look right at Thomas. “Do you…I mean, how are your ribs?”

“Less bruised.”

“You’re ready, you know for all the lifting and stairs?”

“Can always make you and Alfred do the heavier lifting.”

“No… not Alfred. I mean, I’ll do it.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What?”

“You’re offering to add to your workload?”

“It’s my fault isn’t it…” Jimmy shook his head. “I shouldn't have run.”

“You bloody well should’ve,” Thomas snapped. It was the same conversation. Off and on for the whole week, it came up again and again. The guilt in Jimmy’s eyes, and Thomas burying his disappointment it was the only reason they were speaking. 

Jimmy’s gaze seemed to shift to over Thomas’ shoulder, and he brought the cigarette to his mouth. “Aren’t you angry?”

“What?” Thomas asked.

“What,” Jimmy echoed a stream of smoke floating from his mouth. Thomas darted his eyes away from his lips so he wouldn’t stare. “You were beaten, Mr. Barrow.” 

“Justice served wasn’t it,” Thomas said without thinking.

“What?” Jimmy sounded confused. 

Thomas forced his eyes back onto Jimmy’s face, and he pinned him with a stare. Jimmy met it and even straightened his posture to stand taller. Looking right back at him. Thomas felt a shiver roll down his spine and nearly looked away, but he couldn’t because time was short. “I…” he struggled for the right word. 

“You what?”

The only word coming to his mind was ugly, but it was the truth, wasn’t it? Yes, it was the ugly truth. He forced himself not to look away. “I assaulted you.” 

Jimmy stared at him, and his eyes started darting about before they settled back on Thomas' face. It was then he ducked his head down and looked away. His eyes seemed to focus on the tip of his cigarette, and he moved it, so the ash flittered to the ground. “Wasn’t innocent, though was I?”

Thomas opened his mouth and thought he must look like a gawping fool. “You didn’t… it wasn’t…” 

“It was obvious right away I wanted to be in your good graces around here. Anna and Mr. Bates saying to be careful around you. Miss O’Brien was saying the opposite — saying I’d do well to keep you on my side. I mean, I saw it… Don’t cross Mr. Barrow was the lesson. But you seemed to like me, so I thought it was good to use that, keep you liking me and use that to my advantage.” 

Thomas chuckled and hoped his smile wasn’t too obvious. Jimmy was ambitious, and that was something Thomas understood. It was part of why he was drawn to him beyond his handsome appearance. 

“And she… was pushing you at me. Keep you happy, or there might be trouble. I wanted to tell you to stop touching me, but I didn’t. Kept my mouth shut instead.” 

“Miss O’Brien is a witch if there ever was one,” Thomas said and ignored the stab of pain he felt at their broken friendship. “But I crossed the line.”

Jimmy shifted on his feet and nodded. “Yes…” 

“You needn’t feel obliged, Jimmy.”

Jimmy eyes snapped up and looked at him.

Thomas sighed and decided maybe it was best to end it here. “You owe me nothing, I deserved a good thrashing for what I did. Fate presented the opportunity.”

“Mr. Barrow…”

Thomas dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his shoe. He let himself take a good look at Jimmy. Once the moment was over, he’d never be so close to him again. He was beautiful, and Thomas enjoyed watching him think — he loved that about him, he winced inwardly at the thought. He loved him that curled painfully in his chest. “You’re not obliged, Jimmy,” he said and turned to walk away. 

But a strong hand grabbed his upper arm, and he stumbled to a stop. He turned back, but his grip remained, and he was staring right at Thomas. He was lost as to what Jimmy was thinking. Why had he stopped him? He should be relieved to see the back of him. But Jimmy had him in his grasp, and his expression was something Thomas couldn’t comprehend. 

“You being beaten wasn’t some twisted form justice.” 

“Seems so to me,” he muttered, and he had to look away. 

Jimmy’s grip on his arm tightened like he thought Thomas was going try to wrench away. And he was tempted to try, but a piece of him wanted to enjoy being touched by him. It was a hard grip. He could feel Jimmy’s fingers through the layers of his livery. Many of his dreams held the same rough touch. He swallowed and looked away from Jimmy, afraid to reveal too much. 

“You crossed a line, and maybe I can’t get past it…” 

Thomas felt a knife twist in his chest because knowing something to be true never made it easier to hear. He felt like a monster. People spat the epithet at him all his life, and he shoved it aside. He told himself — no, I’m not. But in this moment it felt true.

“But I want to try.” Jimmy’s hand squeezed his arm in a friendly manner before dropping his hand. “I mean it. I want to try, Thomas.” 

Thomas felt jolted as if by a spark of electricity, the last time he heard Jimmy speak his name he was being thrown out of his room. He was being threatened with a fist. But now Jimmy was touching him, and it was friendly. He'd pulled Thomas back toward him and Thomas found himself standing on the unfamiliar ground. 

“You meant it, didn’t you?” Jimmy asked. 

“What?” Thomas breathed. 

“Wanting us to friends?”

Hope swelled up as it a week ago in his bedroom when out desperation he asked for what he thought was impossible. Just to keep Jimmy in his room longer, to keep him near him just another minute longer. He never expected the affirmative and he didn’t expect it now. “I don’t expect it.”

“Yeah… but why not, right? I liked you, Thomas. Before. I was uncomfortable but when I wasn’t… we got along didn’t we?” 

“I liked to think so.”

“Then… why not try to be friends?”

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “What would you get out of it?” 

Jimmy's mouth dropped open, and his eyes started darting about. He shook his head a bit, but then he started laughing. Thomas cocked his head at him, his eyes still narrowed but he felt like he wasn’t breathing. “What’s funny?”

“Well, Mr. Barrow… you’re still influential enough to use. Being Under Butler and all,” Jimmy said with a cheeky wink. 

Amusement washed through him and relief. It was both a lie and the truth. Thomas was capable of making anyone’s life at Downton as living hell. He had done it before and would do it again. It was the truth that a footman would do well to stay in the Under Butler’s good graces if he had any sense and self-preservation. 

But it was also a lie because Thomas was always on Jimmy’s side. He never could turn on him, Thomas found — even if maybe he should have over the last year. But instead, he had bit the head off anyone who said a thing against Jimmy. He shook his head and quickly stopped the smile threatening to form. He didn’t dare speak, though because something soppy would leave his mouth. He was quite aware in the moment how Jimmy had built a furrow straight to his heart. 

“All right then…” he finally said.


	2. Different Person

Thomas sat alone in the servant’s hall with a cigarette between his fingers. He hadn’t lit it and wasn’t at all sure if he was going to. He glanced at the time and let out a sigh filled with disappointment. It was well past midnight now, and he spent the whole day trying to ignore one fact. Jimmy spent the entire day avoiding him. It’d been quite obvious. Jimmy hadn’t even tried to hide it with the way he walked right out of a room the moment Thomas walked into it. He’d hoped those days were over.

Thomas moved the cigarette between his fingers. He wasn’t at all sure what the tipping point was. Maybe Jimmy caught him staring a bit too long? Or maybe it was as simple as he couldn’t forgive him for the kiss. It seemed a lot for Thomas to ask but he asked it because he was selfish. He wanted Jimmy to talk with him, and he wanted Jimmy to look at him without distrust, fear, and loathing. He seemed to accomplished the last three but asking him to look at him with friendship. That was too much. Thomas would regret that night for the rest of his life. 

The sound of footsteps brought Thomas out of his thoughts. He sat up straighter in the chair and listened as they came closer. He blinked in confusion as Jimmy appeared in the servant’s hall. He looked half asleep, and his hair was standing up at odd angles. Jimmy’s intake of surprise at Thomas' presence was the only reason Thomas realized he wasn’t dreaming. 

“Hello,” Jimmy said after a beat of awkward silence. 

“What are you doing down here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” Jimmy yawned and rubbed his temples. “Got a bit of a headache and nothing for it my room. Was going to catch the kitchen cupboards.” 

Thomas nodded and stood up. “Let’s see then.” 

“So… what about you?” Jimmy asked. 

“I like the quiet.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth.

“Was quiet upstairs,” Jimmy said.

Thomas found the powder and set about getting Jimmy a glass of water to mix it. He felt out of sorts. He was angry at being avoided. Jimmy argued with him a few days ago about how he wanted to give friendship a try. And Thomas had listened. He tried to believe him. He felt uncomfortable because it felt like his skin was trying to crawl away. He finished mixing the powder and schooled his features into something blank as he turned to offer it to Jimmy.

He was met with a disapproving scowl as Jimmy took the glass and downed the potion in one gulp. Thomas expected Jimmy to stalk off, still scowling and go back to bed without giving him any more thought. But he stayed, and everything became awkward. In a way the silence became loud. Thomas could hear them breathing, and he was lost as to how to break the tension.

“Why?” Jimmy asked, and Thomas thought his voice echoed off the walls. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you…” Jimmy huffed. “Forget it.”

“Yes, we’ll forget it,” Thomas sniped and shoved past Jimmy to get back to the servant's hall.

“Wait, what?” Jimmy turned and followed him. “I didn’t mean…”

Thomas lit his cigarette. “It wasn’t like I expected much.”

“What does that bloody mean?”

“It was going to end, wasn’t it?” Thomas sighed. 

“Are you on that again,” Jimmy snapped. 

“You’ve been treating me like the plague.”

“I…” Jimmy sighed and rubbed his temples with his hand. “I have a bloody headache.”

“Give the medication time.”

“That’s not it, it’s YOU,” Jimmy snapped.

“Me?”

“Mrs. Hughes.”

“What?”

“O’Brien.”

“What about the witch?” Thomas snapped. “She hasn’t…”

“Oh, she’s been whispering in my ear. All sorts of daft things…” Jimmy laughed. “At least I know they are this time. Learned my lesson I did.” 

“Problem solved then… don’t listen.” 

“Mrs. Hughes bothered me more.”

“What does Mrs. Hughes have to do with anything?”

“I got a lecture on not taking advantage of you.”

Thomas choked on the smoke and started coughing. Jimmy stepped closer, and his hand slapped his back a few times. It didn’t help, but Thomas managed to catch his breath, but all he could do was shake his head at Jimmy. Mrs. Hughes had done what? Gotten them confused was all he could think? It wasn’t him that could be taken advantage of.

“It put me in a mood…” Jimmy said. 

“It’s daft,” he finally said.

Jimmy gave him a long look, and Thomas shifted as his gaze started to feel intrusive. “She has a fair point.” 

Thomas made a face and shook his head.

“Thomas, five minutes ago you mixed up the headache powders for me without blinking an eye.”

“Yes? So?"

Jimmy laughed, his whole body seemed to shake back and forth. “Are you not seeing it. Are you that obtuse?” 

“Why don’t you spell it out for me then,” Thomas snapped because the confusion wasn’t lessening the ache in his heart. Jimmy was finding him more trouble than he was worth. 

“You’re nice to me.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “I might not have much practice, but it is what friends do…” he muttered. 

“You were nice to be when I was a prick to you.” 

“Just happens I suppose…” 

“I’d ask you why but you don’t know do you?” 

“Why what?”

“Jesus Christ, Thomas it’s like you’re a different person around me. Mr. Bates came in here because he had a headache you’d start talking as loudly as you could.” 

Thomas smirked at the thought.

Jimmy laughed again. “I’m sorry.”

Thomas stared at him blankly.

“For avoiding you today… I felt like a right arse when I went to bed, know how once you lay down your brain starts spinning. Couldn’t sleep and my head started hurting.”

Thomas was stunned. “Your…”

“Sorry? Yeah… Seem to be that a lot, huh?” Jimmy shook his head. 

“No need… We both have things to make up for… I don’t know what Mrs. Hughes was on about but…” he sighed. “You are different to me than the rest of them.” 

Jimmy ducked his head and looked away. “It’s clear.”

“I can’t…. Help it.” 

Jimmy looked at him. “I just….”

“What?”

“Don’t want to take advantage of it…” he laughed. “Which, doesn’t sound like the ambitious move but it’s true.” 

“I’m not worried about it.”

“I am.”

“Don’t.”

Jimmy sighed. “Yeah… I’m gonna go lie down and try to get some sleep.”

Thomas nodded.

“Good night, Thomas.”

“Good night, Jimmy. Feel better.” Thomas watched him leave the room and listened to his steps until the faded away. His heart was pounding in his rib cage. Their friendship wasn’t over….

He was baffled.


	3. Remember

Thomas walked down the halls near the nursery with Sybbie in his arms. She was crying against his neck, and he felt her body shuddering with sobs. He hadn’t a clue what the problem was, and the young Nanny seemed lost as well — he liked the woman, but she was young and seemed quite over her head with the two children in her charge. She was trying to get Master George to calm down, and Thomas half wondered if the two children were picking up her nerves. He decided it might help if both crying babies weren’t in the same room and started walking up and the hall with Sybbie. 

He popped in to check on the two little ones, a habit he found himself falling into after Sybbie was born. At first it been about Sybil and his grief. But the little girl looked at him with big eyes, and he decided he loved her. Master George caught hold of his pinky the first time he looked inside his crib, and Thomas prayed no one noticed he seemed to have a soft spot babies. Though the Nanny must have realized it, because she’d asked him for specifically to help with the issue of one too many crying children for her to handle. 

“Want to hear a story about your mum? Hmm… let’s see…” Thomas grinned and started relating a story about Sybil standing up for her patient's rights — no one to allow the doctors to dismiss the smallest of symptoms. He thought it stemmed from losing Edward. It’d made him pull away but made her charge in more. “She was quite a woman, your mother,” he muttered Sybbie yawned against and hiccuped tears still on her cheeks. “Hmm… guess we need another story don’t we…”

“Maybe her milk was sour, and she just needs a sweet,” an amused voice said behind him. 

Thomas jolted and turned to see Jimmy in the hall. His stomach flipped at the sight of him, and he wondered when it would stop. When would he look at Jimmy and see an ordinary person? Would he ever stop reacting as if it was the first time? As if it was special? Because it wasn’t and he must fully accept it. He felt his cheeks flush as he realized he was holding Sybbie and telling tales about Lady Sybil. 

“Carson’s looking for you.”

“Could you?” Thomas stepped forward and motioned that Jimmy should take Miss Sybbie.

Jimmy's eyes widened, and he stepped backward. “What?”

Thomas smirked. “Take her back to the nursery.”

“Uh…”

“She’s too tired to bite you,” Thomas joked.

“She bites?” Jimmy eyed her warily.

“Not when she’s tired,” Thomas laughed outright. 

Jimmy shot him and glare and nodded, and the shifted Sybbie from Thomas to him. Thomas watched him settle her in his arms and chuckle a bit. “Huh, thought she be heavier…” then he passed Thomas to go to the nursery. Thomas watched them for a beat before he remembered he needed to find Carson. After that, the rest of his day was a rush because the Crawley had unexpected company.

It was midnight the first chance Thomas had to take a minute for himself. He expected to find the servant’s hall empty. Everyone else already upstairs but Jimmy was at the table, smoking a cigarette and looking at a photograph in his hand. He hid it in his pocket the minute he realized Thomas was there. 

Thomas looked at him and forced a smile on his face to hide his curiosity. “Jimmy.”

“Mr. Barrow,” he said. “Everything set with the guests?”

“I believe so…” he said. “Made sure to cross the T’s and all that.” 

Jimmy nodded and brought the cigarette to his mouth.

Thomas focused on lighting his own so he wouldn’t stare. He turned the rocking chair, so it was facing Jimmy and sat down. “First chance I’ve had to breathe.” 

“That story….the one you were telling Miss Sybbie.” 

Thomas’ cheeks flamed. “It probably wasn’t all that appropriate.”

“Miss Sybil telling off doctors? Was it true?”

“Yes…. She… it meant a lot to her they be properly listened too,” Thomas cleared his throat.

“Is that why you liked her?”

“She was a genuine person,” Thomas said. “And she was kind to me when she needn’t have been.” 

“My….” Jimmy pulled out the photograph. “She yelled at the doctors the whole time she was sick, trying to tell them something… wonder if they’d listened. Or if I’d listened, just thought she was mad with fever…” 

“It was the flu you said?”

“Yes.” 

“She probably was delirious the fever.” 

Jimmy looked up at him. “It doesn’t much matter now…but, it was her birthday today, and I forgot.” 

Thomas looked at Jimmy staring at the photograph and shook his head. He searched for words to say, something but he couldn’t find any. So, he stood up and leaned over the table. He looked at the photograph in Jimmy’s fingers and saw a beautiful woman with light hair — Jimmy’s features favored her and Thomas supposed he had her to blame for his reactions to Jimmy’s appearance. “She’s beautiful.” 

Jimmy looked at him. 

Thomas prayed he wasn’t blushing and that Jimmy wouldn’t put his resemblance to his mother together with Thomas’ notice of her beauty. He felt caught in the act, and it was another thing that had him wondering. Would that ever stop? 

“I'm maudlin,” Jimmy frowned. “Right, boring thing to be.”

Thomas shook his head and wished for words to come to him. 

“Did it hurt?” Jimmy asked him.

Thomas met Jimmy’s gaze and shook his head. “What?”

“Talking about Lady Sybil?” 

“Oh….” He shook his head. “It felt… natural really, to tell Sybbie about her mother.” 

“Right…” 

“What is it, Jimmy?”

“Just, thinking about her hurts, talking about her…” Jimmy clenched his jaw. 

“No need to talk about her.”

Jimmy nodded. “It’s just that…it was nice listening to you remember Lady Sybil. It was a good story, and it was about a real person, I knew, even if I only met her once and wondered why she married a chauffeur….” He chuckled a bit. “Thought it might be nice to talk about her… but when I tried couldn’t get the words out without the hurting.” 

Thomas shook his head. “Parents are different.”

“Is that it?”

“Mine aren’t dead… but I can’t even think about them without…” his raised his right hand showing off the fist that formed at even the tiniest bit of thought toward his parents. 

Jimmy looked at his fist and then his eyes darted to Thomas’ face. He stared for a long beat and then turned away his whole body curving. He stood up clearing his throat and looking quite embarrassed. “I better get to bed, Mr. Barrow…” he mumbled and left the room. 

Thomas sighed to himself unsure if he was happy Jimmy confided or unhappy he fled after realizing what he had done.


	4. The Lighter

1

“Give it here.” Jimmy reached across and rolled his eyes Thomas lighter just out of his reach. “Come on?”

Thomas smirked and inhaled a lungful of smoke. 

“Mr. Barrow…” 

Thomas exhaled and feigned a look of confusion. “What is it you want?”

“Your bloody lighter… at least push it toward me.”

“What do plan to do with it?” Thomas asked.

“Light the cigarette you’re gonna give me.” Jimmy winked. 

Thomas felt his insides melt and busied himself by picking his lighter and twirling it in his hand. But after a beat, he pushed it across the table and handed Jimmy a cigarette. 

“Fancy a card game?” Jimmy asked. 

Thomas nodded, and Jimmy pulled out his pack of cards and began to expertly shuffle. Thomas ducked his down and exhaled a cloud of smoke to hide his smile. He enjoyed playing cards with Jimmy. It was a bit of challenge to beat him and quite fun to annoy him — as he often won.

2

“I’ll take that and this.” Jimmy took Thomas’ pack of cigarettes and lighter right out of his hands and lit one.

“Going to give them back?”

Jimmy handed back the pack but kept hold of the lighter though and kept flicking it on and off. Thomas watched it, but after awhile his eyes were focusing on Jimmy’s hands around the lighter and their movements, rather than the flame being sparked on and out of existence. He shook himself as he realized and looked up at Jimmy. He was relieved he wasn’t looking Thomas but his expression was distant, and his eyes seemed unfocused like he was staring at nothing. 

“My lighter?” Thomas asked his only recourse to get Jimmy’s attention.

Jimmy looked at him, and Thomas thought he looked a bit dazed. “Oh…” he looked at it in his hand and shrugged. “Didn’t realize.”

“Where were you?” Thomas asked and felt his heart in his throat as he took the lighter back. 

“Here, aren’t I?” he grinned.

But it didn’t reach his eyes, and Thomas lit the lighter himself and wished it’d tell him what to say. But all he could do was shake his head because he wasn’t buying the act. 

“It’s just…” Jimmy shook his head. “I feel cooped up is all. I want to do something anything to break the monotony. Just… I want to walk down the village. Not that I need too, or even want too. Not a thing to do there, but I’m bored out of my mind, and it’d be something to do.”

“No one’s stopping you.”

Jimmy looked at him. “I think Mr. Carson might disagree. Where’s James, oh he went on a walk… HE WHAT?” 

Thomas laughed at his Carson impersonation and shook his head. “I meant after your day is done. No reason you can’t take a walk, go to the pub…. Just don’t get drunk mind you, or come back too late. And definitely, don’t let it show if you get don’t get much sleep.”

“You’ve done this?”

“A time or two… when I was younger, yeah.”

Jimmy looked at him, and Thomas waited expecting something. 

“Yeah, well… now you’ve made the temptation worse. I might just do that tonight, but until then back inside before I run off down the path right now.”

Thomas chuckled and watched him walk back inside.

3

Thomas frowned where were his lighter and cigarettes? He doubled checked his pockets and found an extra pack of cigarettes, but his lighter was still missing. He looked around the servant’s hall, but it wasn’t near any of the ashtrays — where he would sometimes leave it. He sucked in his cheeks in irritation that he must have left it in his room. He glanced at the time and groaned. He hadn’t the time to walk all the up to the attic and back — it’d take the time to smoke one cigarette, and that was all the time he had between duties to spare.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Barrow?” Jimmy asked walking into the room with a tray of silver. Thomas eyed it, and Jimmy shrugged. “Alfred’s in a right snit because Ivy was hinting she wanted me to take her to see some soppy movie. Needed away from the sulking.” 

Thomas watched him sit down and decide he might as well sit. Only he didn’t know what to do with himself without a cigarette. Or even without his lighter. He fidgeted his chair and glanced around the room again. Maybe he just didn’t see it? 

“What are looking for?”

“My lighter…I thought I had it with me?”

“Oh,” Jimmy laughed, and suddenly Thomas’ lighter was on the table between them. “Sorry, used it to light a cigarette at breakfast, must have shoved it in my pocket.” 

Thomas eyed Jimmy and the lighter. Amusement glinted in Jimmy’s eyes before they went back to the polishing he was doing. Thomas watched him for another beat before reaching out and grabbing the lighter. 

“Light me one?”

“Not when you’re polishing, I won’t.” 

“Fine, least toss me a cigarette for later.”

Thomas sighed and pulled one out, pushing it across the table. Jimmy’s hand snatched it and put in his pocket. “What movie is it, Ivy wants to see?”

Jimmy looked up at him. “Didn’t ask, not like I’m going to take her.”

“Why not?” he asked. 

“Too easy, I suppose…haven’t thought about it.”

Thomas felt like that answer should satisfy him, but it didn’t. He kept waiting for Jimmy to start courting the kitchen maid. She was young, pretty and maybe not the brightest bulb but he didn’t think she was stupid. Ivy wasn’t a bad catch, he thought, and she and Jimmy would probably make a striking couple. 

The clock struck 4:30, and he rushed to his feet. “Back to it,” he muttered. 

“At least you had a break,” Jimmy groused.

Thomas laughed as he walked out of the servant’s hall.

4

Thomas sighed when he couldn’t find his lighter. It was time for his last smoke of the day as he read a bit before turning off his light. He sighed and looked around the room. He sat down on his bed and sighed as the possibilities occurred to him. It was either downstairs on the table in the servant’s hall, or it was with Jimmy.

There was really only one possibility. Jimmy took it. Again. He kept taking it and not remembering to give it back. If Thomas left it on a surface, Jimmy picked it up. He looked up during breakfast to watch Jimmy lighting a cigarette with it, and his mouth had turned into a knowing smirk the minute he clocked Thomas looking at him. 

Jimmy had it, and Thomas checked the time and sighed. It was late, far too late for him to cross the hallway and knock on his door. But even if it wasn’t Thomas wasn’t about to go to Jimmy room. The thought of it made him feel clammy and foolish. The memory was both painful and embarrassing. He flopped onto his bed on his back and stared at the ceiling. How was he meant to relax now?

A knock on his door startled him up onto his elbows, and he was about to ask who it was when the door just flew open. Jimmy walked in and gave him a sheepish smile when their eyes met. He crossed the room and put the lighter down on Thomas nightstand. “Must’ve put it in me pocket when were beating Alfred and Ben at cards.”

“You must’ve,” Thomas deadpanned.

Jimmy shrugged stepped backward, reached for the chair he’d sat in the first time he'd been in Thomas room. He dragged it closer to the bed and flopped down. He slouched down and picked up the book on Thomas’ nightstand. “So, what’re reading?”

“I doubt it interest you,” he snatched it out of Jimmy’s hands.

“What? Is it dirty or something?” Jimmy asked his features lighting up.

“No,” Thomas laughed. “Nothing as intriguing as that… it’s horology.”

“God, Bless You.” 

“It’s about clock making.”

“Oh, right… clocks are like people.” 

Thomas blushed surprised he remembered that. 

“Got something dirty?” Jimmy asked with a smirk. “I could use a book.” 

Thomas pointed to his small bookshelf. He watched Jimmy walked over to it, and he perused the shelves. Picking up a book here and there, before settling on a small collection of poems. The choice made him curious, but he didn’t say anything about it when Jimmy turned around. 

“Well, thanks… goodnight, Thomas.” 

“Uh, yeah, goodnight Jimmy.” 

Jimmy closed the door behind him, leaving Thomas to stare at it and wonder what in the world just happened.


	5. Touch

The late autumn air was chilly, and Thomas gulped it up. He'd rushed outside the second he could be excused from the table — having eaten most of what was on his plate. He feared he might have overeaten, but he knew he’d have to finish an appropriate amount to be allowed to leave early. And he wasn’t about to admit to how his head was aching. It happened now and again, the inside of his skull would start screaming at him. But no one needed to know about it. They were just headaches and something he had to get through. The air inside felt stuffy and suffocating, however, and it was a joy to be able to step outside. 

He inhaled the scent of leaves and dirt and found himself wishing it was raining. He always did when he felt…. 

Trapped he supposed was the word but it felt wrong. He'd resigned himself to life at Downton. No resigned wasn’t the right word either. He reached into his pockets for his cigarettes knowing it was the best way to clear his mind of the litany of nagging thoughts — they always got worse when his head ached. 

He sighed as his hand curled around cigarettes but not his lighter. He cursed Jimmy’s name and leaned against the wall under the alcove. He’d stuck some matches somewhere, a new habit, but it'd been the only way to ensure he could have a cigarette anytime he wished — since someone kept filching his lighter. He just found them when the door opened, and Jimmy ambled outside. Thomas nodded at the sight of him — whether it was finding the sight of Jimmy agreeable or a hello, he really didn’t know, but Jimmy always saw it as hello, so why did he worry about the distinction? 

“Here,” Jimmy held out the lighter. 

Thomas took it with a nod and lit his cigarette. 

Jimmy stood where he was, in front of Thomas but not with him and looked between Thomas and the door. Thomas watched him and waited to see what he would do. Curious as always about Jimmy, but fighting the wish for Jimmy to stay. His head hurt and thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be thinking kept circling around and around in his head. He was quite sure it was the thoughts that caused his headaches. After a while things got to be too much, he felt too much and he kept quiet about too many things.

And he needed a breather. 

“Mr. Barrow?” Jimmy’s voice stuttered just a bit. “Thomas…” he continued and sounded surer. 

Thomas nodded for him to ask the question. 

“Are you well?” Jimmy finally asked. 

“I’m fine,” Thomas lied.

Jimmy shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

“I am,” Thomas said. 

“Right…” Jimmy moved closer and into his spot next to Thomas. Where he always stood when they both shared a break and smoked Thomas’ cigarettes. 

Thomas started to offer Jimmy one, but he shook his head at him. Thomas shrugged and focused on the smoke and tried to ignore Jimmy. He wondered if he would ever pull it off — he tried it often enough. Maybe someday he could say, I ignored Jimmy Kent. The thought made him ache it. It felt wrong. 

“Something’s wrong.”

Thomas glanced at him. 

“With you.”

“Many would agree,” Thomas chuckled. 

“Sod that… I mean, you’re not okay? You’ve got a migraine or something?” 

Thomas felt his body go still with shock and he met Jimmy’s eyes due to the surprise and Jimmy was staring back with worry. Thomas looked away quickly, and Jimmy snorted next to him. 

“I knew it,” Jimmy muttered. 

“Yes, well…. It’s just a bit of a headache.”

“It isn’t… you get all ashen, and muscles around your eyes are tight.” 

“I doubt that…”

“No one else sees because they aren’t looking.”

No. No one was looking, Thomas thought. 

“This is the second one this month,” Jimmy said. 

Thomas felt strange. His heart was pounding. No one was supposed to know or meant to know. And that was easy since no one cared to know but why was Jimmy noticing it. Now? After so long? He looked at Jimmy, and there was an ugly scowl on his face and worried eyes looking right at him. It was like he caught Jimmy staring at him, but that was a mad thought. 

“Tomorrow you’re going to avoid me,” Jimmy said and Thomas thought for a moment that he sounded disappointed at the idea. 

“I just need time to myself now and again, is all.”

“I guess,” Jimmy said. “Yeah, you know what I do want a cigarette.”

Thomas laughed and handed him one, along with the matches. Jimmy took them both and immediately handed back the matches. Thomas’ eyes darted from the matches to Jimmy. “Keep them.”

“Why would I do that?”

Thomas shook his head and took the matches. The two of them smoked and a comfortable silence that was beginning to a part of Thomas’ days encircled them. It was a strange thing, Thomas thought about the air between them once been crackling with a tension that hurt his heart shifted into what it was now. Something comfortable and easy. And it was a quiet the pain in his head yearned for, and he felt like it was easier to breathe. He glanced at Jimmy, who was staring up at a darkening sky, looking like he wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere. It threw Thomas because Jimmy always looked ready to jump out of his seat or run from a room. He complained countless times about how still they were expected to be. 

Thomas thought it was a feat Jimmy managed it. 

But right now next to him, Jimmy looked calm, and Thomas turned slightly to stare at the expression and how it changed Jimmy’s face. Calm looked as good on Jimmy as his usual impatience or his impertinence — calm possibly looked better on him, and Thomas wondered where it'd come from? 

Jimmy finished his cigarette and let the butt fall to the ground. His hands went into his pockets and leaned against the wall. Then he glanced at Thomas which made Thomas realize he was staring. He was staring at him and admiring him. He was admiring him and so lost in doing so he forgot himself. His face flamed with heat and he hoped it was dark enough out that Jimmy wouldn’t see the flush on his cheeks. He looked away and tried to remember how to breathe. 

“It’s okay,” Jimmy's voice was low, and Thomas wasn’t quite sure he heard him. 

“What?” he asked because he knew he couldn’t have heard it right and if he hadn't it meant something else. Of course, it meant something else. 

“Nothing,” Jimmy laughed, but it was with easy amusement. “Just… you shouldn’t hide it, you know.”

“Hide what?”

“Your headaches, pulling a full workload with one can’t be fun….”

“And give Carson a reason to think I'm trying to shirk my duties. No.”

“But…”

“I have to better than good, Jimmy.”

“What?”

“At my job,” Thomas shook his head. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“An Under Butler in an age where footman are a dying breed….” Thomas sighed. “I’m the first one gone, Jimmy, if anything happens. I have to be better than good if I’m to stay until then.”

“I’d be the first go…”

“No,” Thomas shook his head. “You wouldn’t.”

“Why not… the last one hired…”

“You’re not homosexual.”

“So what? You work through pain so they can’t do what?”

“Find any excuse,” Thomas said, and he shrugged. 

Jimmy stared at him, and Thomas fought to remain nonchalant under his gaze. He could feel him thinking, and he saw anger sliding over him. His shoulders rose and tensed, and his jaw clenched. He looked quite angry when he finally glanced away from Thomas. His gaze went to his feet, or maybe it was the mud underneath his feet. 

Jimmy stayed that way for a long beat, his head bent down, both his jaw and his hands clenched. Thomas knew he was staring again, but it was hard not too as he watched him. He seemed to be angry on Thomas’ behalf which was odd, and Thomas didn’t really believe it. He looked beautiful, Thomas thought, and maybe he shouldn’t think it. Because he looked ready to punch someone, anyone and it wasn’t something to be admired…. Yet? 

Jimmy let out a long sigh, his breath making a whooshing noise as it left his body and Thomas saw all the anger angles relax — somewhat but when he looked up and met Thomas gaze his eyes were dark with something. Jimmy stepped forward, and his hand rose up and fell onto Thomas’ shoulder near his neck, and he pressed. He pressed a firm grip, and a bit of massage and Thomas stopped breathing. Jimmy massaged again and then sighed…. “Just take care of yourself…” 

Thomas opened his mouth but realized he didn’t know what to say, not that it mattered because Jimmy was gone and he was alone. But he felt Jimmy’s presence. He felt the touch, and his heart was pounding because of it. What crazed thing made Jimmy do that?


	6. O'Brien

Thomas stilled as he spotted O’Brien talking to Jimmy just outside the servant's hall. His insides twisted at the sight of her and wished he could hate her — he did, but it didn’t feel absolute. He feared any small kindness from her, and he might let his guard down. She was insidious, he thought, and now she was whispering at Jimmy — again. It was the third day. She'd been buzzing around Jimmy for three days. Thomas didn’t like it. Jimmy wasn’t happy either. Thomas watched him straighten his posture and puff out his chest. He was speaking to her but too low for Thomas to hear. It didn’t appear to be pleasant. O’Brien interrupted him and said something, her mouth turning up in that ugly smirk of hers. Jimmy hissed at her and started looking around them. 

He spotted him, and Thomas tensed. Jimmy's eyes looked dark, and his chest was rising and falling. He was angry. O’Brien wound him up, and Thomas' eyes slid from Jimmy to her, and she was smiling. “I’ll leave you two to your whisperings…” she said loudly and took off up the stairs. 

Whisperings? What did she mean by that? Thomas wondered, and he walked down the hallway. Jimmy watched him the entire time, but he wouldn’t look him in the eye. “What is she on about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Jimmy lied and he stepped away from Thomas, putting distance between them. “Gotta go…” he said looking to the side before hurrying off and away from him. 

A twist of a knife. Months, months have passed. The stares and the comments about Jimmy not biting his head off had faded away into nothing. It was accepted. Their friendship was accepted. Thomas thought they were settling into a good routine. They had inside jokes, they teased one another — it was marvelous, and it made Thomas feel less alone.

O’Brien knew that about him. Knew how loneliness stabbed at him from the inside out. It wasn’t he confided it, no she sussed it out. She looked for peoples weaknesses and then jabbed them with it with intent to cause pain. That he ever thought he was exception revealed his ability for stupidity. A flaw that he wished he could excise. 

But he couldn’t.

Not an hour later he and Jimmy bumped into each other just inside the kitchen. Thomas on his way in and Jimmy on his way out, tray in hand, for dinner service. A collision, of course, didn’t happen, the two of them too well trained. But Thomas let his mouth twitch up into a small smile, a bit of a chuckle on his tongue, but his amusement met a storm. 

“Just bloody stay away from me,” Jimmy snapped, avoiding looking at Thomas as he swiftly moved around him. 

It was the worst sort of deja vu. He felt transported back several months, and his heart cracked in his chest. Memories of a year's worth of Jimmy avoiding him and refusing to look at him. A year of Jimmy sniping at him and treating Thomas as if he was a blight. 

“Trouble in paradise,” a grating voice snickered behind him.

O’Brien. How had he forgotten? Her looming around Jimmy and whispering at him. Day after day for nearly a week. Thomas felt his spine go rigid and he turned toward her. He pinned her with a glare, his anger rising at her and her manipulations. At her need to mess with other people’s lives. He glared at her and swiftly invaded her space. She teetered backward but hit the chair of Mrs. Patmore’s kitchen desk. 

“Seems like he’s come to his senses about being seen with the likes you,” she retorted. 

She never backed away or backed down. He'd watched her get caught in lies, hundreds of times but she would just continue lying. He once found that admirable but now he found it pathetic. 

“I could destroy you,” he hissed.

“But you won’t,” she said. 

He hated she was right, and he wished he could loathe her fully. He wished a piece of him didn’t miss his partner in eavesdropping and her witty snarks about everything and everyone. He missed the Sarah O’Brien he thought was in his corner and understood him. She ripped something out of him, and he should turn on her. He should hate her enough to try to ruin her as utterly as she nearly ruined him. 

“He’s so easily riled,” she laughed. “Did you really think you could keep him?”

Anger rushed him and stepped further into her space. “Stay away from him, or the little care I have left for you will vanish, Sarah.” 

Her face hardened. “You started this, Thomas. And your too soft to do a thing.”

He started it? That was a lie, it was her caring about no one but her own interests. It was never about Alfred, it was never about him — every single kind thing she did was with ulterior motives and to make her feel like she was in control. Thomas hardened his glare and pressed even closer, ever closer. He grinned as she tried to step back but couldn’t due to the chair. He could maybe make her fall right into the seat of it — but he wouldn’t. But he would threaten it. He loomed by straightening up to his full height. 

“Jimmy is off limits,” he said it in a slow hiss. “Keep away, or her Ladyship will find herself hearing quite the story.”

“Never,” O’Brien argued, but he saw a flash of fear in her eyes before they hardened again. “Besides, damage is done. However you manipulated him into your clutches, it’s over, he sees you for what you are… unnatural, a pervert. Someone unworthy of kindness.”

He blinked, and she flashed a triumphant grin as he fell back on his heels, freeing her to leave. She knew the buttons to push, and she was right. The threats were empty because the damage was done. It was too late. Whatever she whispered at Jimmy at made the boy see sense. Thomas was nothing but trouble for him, dangerous even — Thomas wanted him and could a man like Jimmy ever see past that? 

~~~

His room felt small, and he stood, his back pressed against his door and glared at it. It felt too stark. It was empty. Sure he had his books and a few other personal items laying around. He looked at the photograph of his mother and wondered for the millionth time why he owned it. It was a lie. He was alone, and she was in Manchester not missing him. No one missed him. He was nothing to anyone. 

Jimmy was gone, but he wasn’t leaving. He was going to be right there in front of Thomas. Out of reach and hating him again. He pulled off his clothes, his livery feeling heavy. He tore at it and violently ripped things off his body until he was down to nothing. He thought about the last several months, and all the time it’d hurt to be so close to Jimmy and not touch. It was a different kind of pain. Jimmy laughing at his jokes and the two of them holding conversations about nothing. All it did was make Thomas ache and ache more and more for Jimmy. But Jimmy was with him during it, and he told himself it was more than he could ever ask for… 

It was a dream.

Now, now, Jimmy was back to being that beautiful butterfly he had no hopes of catching. He would start back up with the snide comments and keep a distance between them to make sure no one would ever think he was like Thomas. 

Thomas wiped at his wet cheek and winced at his clogged nose he breathed. He pulled on his sleep clothes in automatic jerky moves and sat down on his bed. His control was slipping. He’d been holding it in since dinner service. Keeping up the blank face of a servant who held no thought and no opinion. If only it could be true. If he held no thought and no opinion maybe he’d have no feelings. Feelings that were easily bruised no matter the walls he erected around them. Why couldn’t he just stop caring? When would the walls he built start working? 

He gasped for a breath and cursed himself for starting to believe in it. Jimmy’s friendship had been a temporary truce because Jimmy felt guilty. It wouldn’t withstand the outside pressure Jimmy was likely getting for long. O’Brien decided it would be her, that was all, she decided to take it away from him because she knew she could.

It was inevitable, and she made it faster. A sobbing laugh barked out his chest, and he wondered if maybe he should thank her. But he wasn't thankful, he wasn’t even angry — and maybe that was the problem. All he was was empty, and he closed his eyes and remembered their last smoke together. 

Jimmy had nudged him in the shoulder. He’d been doing things like that more and more. Nudging, back-slapping, touching Thomas. Making his heart threaten to burst. It was more than he expected and now he feared he hadn’t savored it enough. He was going to forget what Jimmy’s body heat felt like pressed against his arm. 

He wiped at his nose and tried to slow his breath but he was gulping for air, his lungs unable to keep it as he sobbed. The knock on his door barely registered, he was quite sure he was hearing things. He looked at the door though eyes swimming with tears and watched it open. 

“Thoma…” Jimmy’s voice broke off. 

Horror filled him, Jimmy’s voice too real for his ears to deny it He stood up, turning away and tried to stop the tears and dry his face. He thought maybe he should tell Jimmy to leave but he couldn’t. His brain was too caught up in trying to process why Jimmy was there. 

“Shit,” Jimmy bit out the curse. 

Thomas held his breath for as long as he could — it wasn’t long. He inhaled sharply and told himself to just get through this. Maybe Jimmy just wanted to make it clear it was over. He tried to straighten his spine but was sure he failed, but he held his chin high and turned to face Jimmy. Wishing that every breath didn’t come with the sound of his stuffed nose whistling. “Well, get it over with then…” 

Jimmy looked like he wanted to run and Thomas wished he would. But he stood where he was — just inside the door. He looked trapped but he was looking right at Thomas, and there was something in his eyes that threatened to give Thomas hope. 

“Get it over with and leave,” he snapped against that hope. 

“I came to apologize,” Jimmy muttered after a beat. “But that’s empty isn’t it.” 

Thomas heard himself sobbing and laughing again. 

“That fucking bitch….” Jimmy swore. 

“She’s that… seemed to listen to her, though.”

“No,” Jimmy snapped, but he deflated. “Yes. But…” 

“What?” Thomas asked and wished he hadn’t…. “No. Never mind. Just leave, Jimmy. It’s fine. The experiment is over.”

Jimmy stood there and turned slightly toward the door but his body tensed, ready to bolt but he stayed. He stayed, and he turned back to fully face Thomas. He stepped further into the room and walked closer to him. Too close. Thomas stepped backward, but Jimmy stepped forward for each step. Thomas stopped right before he would have hit the wall. 

“Jimmy you gotta just leave if…”

“When you shoved me away from you, under that bridge, when you let those pricks beat you…. I froze. I stood there for what felt forever and watched you get hit. It won’t leave my head, that frozen minute. Everything slower than it should and faster all at once. It’s a fucking nightmare, and I’m a fucking coward.” 

“No,” Thomas argued. 

Jimmy shook his head. “That bitch… she, she used all the right words to evoke that coward.”

“It’s fine, Jimmy…” Thomas muttered in a monotone.

“Isn’t…” Jimmy snapped. “I told you, she evoked that coward. Which means she evoked that bloody nightmare… Where I’m standing there under the bridge watching you get hit and hit… Again and again. And I can’t move, not to run. Not to help… but I should help, and I know it. But I’m frozen until I wake up.” 

“What?” Thomas shook his head confused. 

“It’s a bloody nightmare because I was a bloody coward and she had me almost….” 

“Almost?” it was hope, and he thought himself mad for jumping on it. 

“Yeah…I was a prick. I let her play me — again. Like a fool… guess I am. I’m…” he sighed. “Sorry, doesn’t feel like enough.” 

Thomas felt like he was on fire, Jimmy was looking right at him as he cried, his emotions raw and attacked him against his will. He was confused, and hope was clawing at his chest at Jimmy’s words. But the pain was stung, and he wasn’t sure what end was up. 

“You shouldn’t forgive me,” Jimmy said. 

Thomas shook his head. “I should say that…”

Jimmy let out an annoyed breath and grabbed Thomas, hand. Thomas jumped at the contact and stared at Jimmy’s hands around his own. He fell into a daze and jolted a bit when he found himself sitting down on his bed. Jimmy was next to him, and he’d let go of his hand, but he nudged Thomas with his shoulder. 

“Jimmy?”

“We’re friends,” Jimmy said his voice low.

The clawing hope scratched him and became a real and solid thing. It wasn’t over. Jimmy was here, and it wasn’t over. She hadn’t won? It felt bizarre, and he felt too many things all at once, and he sniffled against his will and more tears fell. He was too vulnerable, and another wave of embarrassing heat waved over his skin. Jimmy shouldn’t see this but he helpless to all his emotions.

“And I’m not leaving until you can breathe through your nose,” Jimmy muttered with not a drop of judgment. 

“Oh.” 

Jimmy nodded at that and stood up. Thomas nearly grabbed at him wanting to keep him next to him. To keep their arms brushing, to make sure it was real because a piece of him was still afraid it was a dream. But Jimmy went only as far as his bureau, where he grabbed Thomas lighter and cigarettes. He lit two of them as he walked back to the bed, both of them in his mouth as he sat back down. He handed one to Thomas and pocketed the lighter. 

Thomas breathed.


	7. If....

He yawned as he left the lavatory and fought to keep his eyes open. He was half-asleep and was planning to keep it that way. He had gotten to bed late as it was and the Crawley’s were expecting company early in the day and for the weekend. He needed all the sleep he could manage because Carson was going to have him jumping through hoops along with the footmen. A thump made him startle and stumble. His hand hit the wall, and he saw a light shining under a door and curiosity instantly roused his brain. Why was someone awake, who was it, what was going? He stood straighter, blinking his eyes to push away sleep in order to place himself in the hallway. Whose room was it? He studied the light and then looked upward, his eyes falling the tiny placard on the door. 

Jimmy Kent. 

Voices were instantly warring inside of him. Run being the loudest and he was listening to it with little thought. He was in his own room seconds later, door closed behind him, and his heart was thudding in his head. He couldn’t be lurking outside Jimmy’s door, what was he thinking? But the questions were still whirring in his head, only this time they were all attached to Jimmy — which made him want to know the answers that much more. 

“Go back to sleep,” he muttered to himself, but he knew all he had in store for him was staring at his ceiling. His curiosity was stoked and it being because of Jimmy made it more powerful. He wanted to know why a piece of him needed to know why — what had been that thump? Was he okay? What was he up too? Thomas sighed and climbed into he bed. He could ask pointed questions, try to suss out the reason…. 

“You could just ask him?” he muttered but discounted it. He couldn’t risk Jimmy knowing he’d been standing outside his door. Looking under it and seeing the light on. Creeping outside in the hallway outside Jimmy Kent’s door — that wasn’t something he could admit to, it didn’t matter if it was accidental. No one would believe him. He wouldn’t believe him. 

“Why is he up?” Thomas mumbled and knew the question would leave him. And he couldn’t try to pin it down and get the answer. Not without tipping Jimmy off that been outside his door. Guilt crept up his spine, and he wished he could purge the memories of that night from his mind. But like all horrors he wished to forget — it was a vivid and near perfect memory. From the moment he left his room until Jimmy shoved him back out into the hall. 

The ghost of the crushing embarrassment and fear he felt in that moment rolled through him. He could remember how his legs shook and his spine bent. He remembered feeling more than seeing Alfred’s disgusted stare before he shut his door. He shuddered at the memory and wondered how he lived through it. Though, he always managed to live through things.

But after each horror, he felt more and more like he was nothing but jagged pieces taped haphazardly together — always threatening to fall apart. He inhaled sharply and worked hard to clear his mind. But he slipped into half dreams of sneaking into Jimmy’s room and kissing him a second time. Jimmy’s mouth soft and pliant underneath his own and the door remained closed. It was a moment of bliss but then Jimmy’s eyes opened, and he shoved Thomas off of him and stared at him with wide blue eyes. Eyes full of a fiery betrayal making Thomas feel physically burned….

He gasped, and the sound woke him up. He sat up and felt sweaty and ill. The room more dark than gray and he sighed, falling back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. No. He wouldn’t risk Jimmy knowing what he saw — he couldn’t risk it all. 

The problem, however, was three days later it was obvious something was wrong with Jimmy. At first, his barbs simply seemed to have a bit more of a snarky bite — which amused Thomas, though bothered everyone else. But then the irritability got more and more barbed that it got to the point Thomas gave him a warning in the hopes of stopping Carson from noticing. Which got him a glare that reminded him of his recent nightmare and left him feeling a bit unsteady on his feet.

On the fourth day the yawning started, which was when Thomas connected Jimmy’s irritability with him not sleeping well. He thought about that light under his door and the thump he heard…. it was four or five days ago. It felt shorter and longer all at once as he fought his curiosity. But now his curiosity was heightened by his worry. But he couldn’t figure out what to do about it — Jimmy been avoiding him since Thomas’ scolding. And fear kept telling him not to admit noticing his light being on in the middle of the night. 

But then Jimmy yawned during dinner service. Right in the middle of a story Mrs. Crawley — an extremely boring one — was telling the family about her days as a nurse. It wasn’t a small yawn either, it was rather loud and obnoxious, and the instant it happened Jimmy looked mortified. Though not nearly as mortified as Carson. Thomas recalled instantly telling Carson, Jimmy hadn’t been sleeping very well, perhaps he had a bit of a cold… Carson was apologizing to the Crawleys, lecturing Jimmy with his eyebrows, and ordering Thomas to take Jimmy upstairs. As they left the room, Thomas heard the Dowager exclaim, “The yawn that saved us all.” 

Thomas deposited Jimmy his room and muttered at him to get some sleep and then hurried away. He hadn’t been able to dare look inside the room, even with Jimmy standing right there and thanking him for helping with Carson. He just nodded his head and hurried away. Carson ordered him to call Clarkson, so he did and then he went back to his duties.

And he hadn’t seen Jimmy since and that was two days ago. He heard from Mrs. Hughes that Jimmy been ordered to rest and that Clarkson prescribed some medication. Worry was coursing through Thomas, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to Jimmy room. Not even to check on him. The thought of doing so was just too much.

So, instead of walking upstairs to check on his friend for the second day in a row, he took an extra long smoke break outside. Thomas leaned against the wall and lit his cigarette. He was trying to talk himself into not worrying about Jimmy. He was getting rest, and that was all that mattered. The door creaked open, and Thomas glanced toward in idle curiosity. Wondering who might be walking outside because everyone else should be busy with work — especially without their first footman on duty. 

“There you are.”

Thomas stood straighter and lowered his cigarette from his mouth. “Jimmy…”

“Don’t look so startled.”

“You… just…” he spluttered inarticulately. 

Jimmy grinned at him and laughed, and Thomas felt his insides somersault in response to such beauty. “I needed out of my room…” he stepped closer to Thomas and procured himself the lighter and a cigarette.

He watched Jimmy light it and realized how familiar the motions had become, and it made his insides flutter again, and he looked away from the sight and hoped his cheeks weren’t giving away too much. He missed him.

“So… are you mad at me?”

Thomas’ head snapped up. “What?”

“I don’t know…” he sighed. “I mean you never stopped by.”

Thomas stared at him. 

“I mean, you know, Alfred and the hall boys all did… And Mrs. Hughes told me Ivy kept trying to get permission too…” he chuckled and shook his head. “But you didn’t…”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to…” Thomas muttered though it wasn’t quite the truth at all. He didn’t think Jimmy would want him near his bed or ever inside that room again. 

“What?” Jimmy stared at him. 

“I… so, what was wrong? Was it a cold?”

“Insomnia…” Jimmy shrugged. “Got some sleeping powders, they seemed to help and slept fine last night without them. Though bored to death, starting back tomorrow though…Looking forward to it, that won’t last.”

“Oh…”

“You didn’t think I’d want to see you?”

“No.”

“You think I wanted to see Alfred?”

Thomas laughed. 

“I didn’t… I wanted to see you.”

“What?” 

Jimmy laughed. “You’re the only one I like.” 

Thomas’ insides twisted, and he wondered if they would ever go back to the proper positions. “You. Uh…what?”

His laughter deepened, and he shook his head at Thomas. “Mates remember? Or was that an insomnia-induced hallucination?”

“You had hallucinations!”

“What? No…. Just heard that could be a thing… in the war. No. We’re friends and come on Thomas, you’re the only person worth liking around here.” 

“I am?” Thomas stuttered. 

“Are you okay?” Jimmy asked.

“I’m fine,” Thomas snapped feeling suddenly defensive.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“I just…” Thomas sighed. “Wouldn’t expect you to say that…”

“Say what?”

“That you like me.” 

Jimmy met his gaze and his expression sobered. “Oh.”

“You see then…”

“Yeah, well… maybe it’s a turnaround. Though, not really.”

“What?”

“I liked you, you know… before.” 

“You did?”

“It was complicated,” Jimmy laughed. “You were making me uncomfortable some of the time, but at the same time, you were the only person around here who made any sense.”

“I never meant to…. Make you uncomfortable.” 

Jimmy shrugged. “It wasn’t totally on you, was it?”

Thomas shook his head. 

“I never told you to keep your hands to yourself.”

“Still…”

“Yeah, well… next time I’m trapped in my room, fucking visit me, I need intelligent conversation.”

“You would…you… would….” Thomas found himself sputtering again because as his mind scrambled to process all the new information, he was being given. 

“Though…you seem rather inarticulate of late,” Jimmy stared at him with an amused smirk on his face. “What is with you?”

Thomas noted the smirk and wished he found it less attractive, but that was impossible. As were half the things Jimmy was saying, and he took a long pull off of his cigarette and let the smoke calm him a bit as he tried to find and form actual words. “I thought… think. I think it’s best if I stay away from your room.” 

“Why?” Jimmy exclaimed, but his face shifted to understanding before he finished speaking. “Oh. That.” 

Thomas nodded.

“That’s in the past,” Jimmy said.

“I realize but…”

“No. That’s in the past. And I go into your room all the bloody time. You can come to my room.”

“I don’t think…”

“How about don’t think,” Jimmy snapped. 

“What?”

“Quit overthinking. We’re mates. You're the only person I can stand, you invited into my bloody room, Thomas,” Jimmy snapped. “PLEASE. Especially, if I’m being forced to rest because I couldn’t sleep for a week…” he looked away then.

Thomas felt himself nodding at the command in Jimmy’s voice, responding to the anger because somehow it made it feel more real and plausible. This wasn’t sunshine, he’d irritated him, and he still wanted them to be mates. It was amazing, but then his stomach dropped in concern as Jimmy mentioned his insomnia again. “Why were you not sleeping?” 

“Don’t know, really….” he said, but he didn’t meet Thomas’ eye. 

“You can tell me?” he pressed, Jimmy’s words about friendship echoing in his head. 

“I can…” Jimmy spoke slowly and met Thomas' eyes, the question there, and Thomas nodded. “Yeah…” he breathed. “It was my mum’s anniversary, when she died, date snuck up on me, and I’d forgotten. I couldn’t sleep, the guilt was making my skin crawl. I felt like a bastard, and it spiraled I guess. Damn daft really.” 

“No,” Thomas said. “Not at all.” 

Jimmy shook his head. 

“You miss her,” Thomas said as a memory hit him, Jimmy confiding that it hurt him to think about his mother. It surprised him the clarity of the confession when he couldn’t remember how the subject came about. He stared at Jimmy, really looked at him and he still looked tired around his eyes. Lines were apparent that Thomas never noticed before. It seemed of her memories hurt Jimmy physically if they were causing lack of sleep. 

Jimmy exhaled through his nose and nodded so subtly Thomas almost missed it. 

“You could…” Thomas started but swallowed it the fear of crossing lines or pushing too far with Jimmy threatened. 

“What?”

“I was just… next time, if it happens again, just talk to me about it,” Thomas managed to voice the thought.

“About missing her?” Jimmy snorted. “Who wants to hear that?”

“About her. Wouldn’t you want to hear that?”

Jimmy met his eyes. “You’d… do that?”

“Know what it is to miss someone is all…” Thomas admitted and looked away. 

“Oh,” Jimmy breathed. “Yeah… well, if it ever happens again.”

“If…” Thomas said and nodded. “Another smoke?” 

“Sure.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence.


	8. Constellations

The cheap whiskey they were drinking burned Thomas throat, but it was keeping him warm. It wasn’t cold outside but it wasn’t warm either, and the breeze was cool against his skin. Which was flushed not because of the whiskey but because he was touching Jimmy Kent. They were outside in the courtyard, their backs against the brick of the building sharing a bottle of cheap whiskey Jimmy won off one of the gardeners in cards. Jimmy was leaning against Thomas, pushing his weight onto him their shoulders pressed together. Thomas smiled at Jimmy as he handed the bottle back to him and enjoyed the freedom the whiskey was granting him. He could dare to look more directly, he wasn’t worried about his blush being spotted — he could blame it all on the drink. 

“Do you know the constellations?” Jimmy’s fingers brushed against Thomas’ as he took the bottle.

“What?” Thomas asked distracted by the touch and the length of Jimmy’s throat as he exposed it by tipping his head back as he took a swig of the whiskey. 

Jimmy licked his lips as he pulled the bottle away from his mouth. “That stars, you know, the constellations, do you know them?”

“No,” Thomas said.

“I wish I could remember,” Jimmy said his eyes skyward and his voice distant. “Mum knew them, she would point them out — but I wasn’t paying attention.”

Thomas stared at Jimmy’s profile and noted the clench of his jaw and the focused stare at the sky. He licked his lips and tore his eyes away from Jimmy and looked up at the stars. Maybe he knew more than he thought, maybe he could give Jimmy something that would make the memory of his mother clearer. He knew what it was to miss someone, it was just the family he missed wasn’t dead — and they didn’t miss him. 

He stared at the stars and instantly missed staring at Jimmy. He felt the bottle come his way more than saw it and took it. Their fingers were brushing, again and again, electricity shot up his arm. He inhaled at the power of the simple touch and felt bad that all he saw was a spray of stars and not any pattern that made a picture. 

“She was always on me for not paying attention, not listening…” Jimmy sighed. 

“Could learn them,” Thomas said and found himself looking at Jimmy’s profile again. 

“What?” Jimmy looked at him and their gazes locked.

“The constellations, nothing is stopping you from learning them… His Lordship probably has a book or two you could borrow from his library.” 

“Learn them?” Jimmy laughed, but he looked back up at the sky and after a moment nodded his head a bit. “It’s an idea….” 

They lapsed into silence as they passed the bottle between them. Thomas felt warmer and warmer, and he thought maybe Jimmy was pressing his weight against him more and more. Their fingers brushed every time they exchanged the bottle and every time Thomas felt the same jolt. He enjoyed the repetition of it, and he couldn’t tear his eyes off of Jimmy’s profile. It was luck he supposed that Jimmy seemed unable to stop staring at the stars. 

“Tell me about your mum?” Jimmy asked.

“Why?” Thomas asked confused by the question.

Jimmy looked at him and shrugged. “It’s just you never talk about yourself.” 

“Don’t I?”

“No. Tell me about her, your mum.”

“Rather not…” Thomas said.

Jimmy’s gaze intensified and his expression was thoughtful, Thomas realized his cheeks were red from the whiskey, and his eyes seemed bright. He stared at Thomas and then shook his head. “You were kicked out, weren’t you… because?” 

Thomas took a long drink from the bottle and fought to keep himself from looking at Jimmy. He felt vulnerable, and he could feel Jimmy’s gaze locked on him. He felt his body heat, and he felt it as Jimmy leaned against him even more. Leaning closer and his hand wrapped around the bottle, their fingers touching before Thomas let go and let him take it. 

“You must hate them. I’d hate them…” Jimmy said.

Thomas shook his head.

“You don’t?”

“I try too. I think some days I do…might…” Thomas inhaled sharply and looked at Jimmy. His breath hitched as their gazes locked and he leaned against Jimmy, pushing weight onto him, wanting to press closer. The touching was grounding but his heart was in his throat, and he felt vulnerable. But Jimmy was staring at him and looking like he wanted to know him. Jimmy looked like he wanted to know him. Thomas wasn’t sure how to handle that, how do deal with it and all his usual instincts told him to shut up. To be quiet, don’t let anyone too close and protect himself. 

But this was Jimmy. 

“We were close, my father and me. I was going to take over the clock shop — I wanted to take it over. But…” Thomas sighed. “I got older and became clear I was different, and he wanted nothing to do with it… And he tried to change me, and he tried to force…” Thomas swallowed a lump in his throat. “Like I said most days I do hate him but…” he trailed off.

“What?”

“Some days I feel nostalgic and remember being the little boy who sat on his lap and was being told the parts that make a clock.” 

Jimmy nodded and leaned against him. “He’s an arse for tainting that memory.”

Thomas shook his head.

“He is, Thomas… I…I like you shared that.” Jimmy grinned at him. “I want to…” he leaned closer. 

Thomas lost the ability to breathe. 

“I want us to be friends,” Jimmy whispered. 

Thomas felt his insides flip but scolded himself a bit for his hopeful wish Jimmy meant more. Friendship was enough, it was more than enough. 

“I mean it… tell me more about you.”

“I’ll try, Jimmy,” Thomas breathed. It wasn’t easy for him but for Jimmy, he would. He would. 

“Good…” he turned away and Thomas and looked up at the stars. “Suppose, I could make up my own constellations.”

Thomas laughed.

“We should.”

“What?”

“Make up some,” Jimmy grinned. “Play connect the dots, and name them.” 

“You're daft.”

“Nah. Just a bit drunk,” Jimmy laughed. “Come on, Thomas play the game with me?”

“Anything you want,” Thomas laughed.


	9. Hungover

Thomas balanced the tray he was carrying with expert precision, knocked on Jimmy’s door and walked straight in. He blinked, surprised by the fact Jimmy was standing by his window. Hands on the sill and staring out the window. He was in nothing but a vest and a pair of pajama bottoms — Thomas let his eyes roam up and down his backside for the count of two before forcing his gaze onto his profile. Only instead he met eyes — duller than usual but a smirk was on Jimmy’s face, and Thomas found himself staring at the fullness of his lips.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimmy said feigning surprise. 

Thomas rolled his eyes and kicked the door shut with his foot. He put the tray down on the closet surface and fished the towel he had soaking in a small basin of towel water out. He squeezed it a bit and then walked over to Jimmy, who was standing straight now and made a face as Thomas put the wet cloth to his forehead. 

“Will you stop…oh, hmmm…yeah okay, towel good,” Jimmy's eyes closed and he swayed forward pressing his head into Thomas' hand. Thomas gulped at both the motion and the way Jimmy’s voice gone from irritation to pleased. 

“You should be lying down.”

“Just makes me want to empty my gut more…” Jimmy whined.

“Well, I managed to get Carson and Mrs. Hughes to believe you have a touch of the flu and not a hangover.”

“Sure, you did,” Jimmy laughed and took over holding the towel to his skin. 

“What?” Thomas scowled. “You doubting my skills at storytelling?”

“Storytelling, is that what you call it? No, I doubt their faith in me. Not their favorite person.”

“Wouldn’t know what that is like,” Thomas laughed. 

“I think she likes you more than me…” Jimmy shook his head. 

“She does not,” Thomas shook his head and turned back to the tray and picked up the glass of water mixed with headache powders. “Here.” 

Jimmy made a face but took it, causing his face to wrinkle up even more, and Thomas wondered how he remained attractive in that state. And decided it was his own madness. He frowned as Jimmy finished it up, noting the green tinge of his skin. 

“How much did you drink?”

“The whole pub…” Jimmy joked, and he shrugged. “Tried this new whiskey, it was bloody cheap, think I know why now.”

“How late were you?”

“Late wasn’t I, or would’ve stopped by your room — I didn’t stop by your room did I?”

“Not that I recall,” Thomas laughed at the strange look on Jimmy’s face. “Just asked when you got in…”

“Oh. Well, it was late, after 1… I don’t know. Remembering being bored so almost emptying me stomach on Lady Edith’s lap seems really unworth it.” 

Thomas laughed. 

“Her egg yolks were wibbling and ugh…it’s not funny.” Jimmy made a face and put his hands on his bureau and put his head down. 

“It is, though,” Thomas chuckled, but he grabbed the towel, where Jimmy dropped it and dunked in the water again. “I bought you up some toast,” he said and pressed the cloth to the back of his neck this time.

“Hmmmm,” Jimmy hummed. 

Thomas licked his lips thankful Jimmy wasn’t looking at him. 

“Why are you so nice to me?” Jimmy whispered then he tensed.

Thomas swallowed, draped the towel over the back of his neck and pulled his hands away. “Well,” he said, ignoring the question. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

He made it to the door when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned and saw Jimmy standing there, far too close, and he looked dizzy, and Thomas' hands went up to his shoulders to steady to him. 

“Moving fast, not a good idea,” Jimmy laughed. “I just…”

“What?”

“I um…” Jimmy looked away from him, and Thomas instantly let go of him, realizing his hands were still on his shoulders. 

“What?” Thomas repeated wanting to rush him because it felt like a good idea to retreat. Sometimes he just had to withdraw and get away from Jimmy. 

“I won it back.”

“What?”

Jimmy turned and went to pile of clothes on the chair in the corner of his room. He pulled up the pants and stuck his hand in the pockets. Then he walked back over to Thomas and held out his lighter. He stared at it, glinting a bit as the sun through the dormer windows hit it. He grabbed it and eyed Jimmy. “Won it back? When did you lose it?”

“The weekend, didn’t I… I figured you figure out I hadn’t just nicked it, like usual soon enough and I had to win it back, right?”

“You lost my lighter in a card game.”

“This guy really fancied it, and I was sure I had the winning hand…” Jimmy shoved his hands through his hair and looked sheepish. “But, I found him and asked for a chance to win it back. It took longer and a lot more whiskey than I planned… but I got it back.” He grinned. “And I won’t lose it again.” 

Thomas shoved the lighter into his pocket and turned around to leave the room. 

“Don’t be mad…” Jimmy said. 

Thomas looked at his hand on the doorknob and how it wasn’t turning it. He was mad. But he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t sure how he was feeling, his emotions about the lighter, nearly as complicated as his feelings for Jimmy. And he didn’t know, he didn’t have the first clue… 

“I know it’s special to you, I do… whatever the reason is, and it’s not my business, but I know it’s important. I shouldn’t have… I don’t think.” 

Thomas sighed and turned back around and met Jimmy’s contrite expression. “It is special,” he said. 

“I know.”

“You don’t think…”

“I know.”

“You aren’t the only one who has made that mistake…” Thomas mumbled his eyes falling onto Jimmy’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” he nodded and smirked at Thomas. Thomas blushed realizing Jimmy knew he was thinking about the stolen kiss. 

“Just… eat the toast, and I left some more powders for later. Try to sleep it off.” 

“Yeah, in a bit, maybe I can handle laying down.”

“Right…” Thomas sighed. 

“I’m a bastard, I know…” Jimmy’s expression was solemn, his jaw clenched from guilt. 

“You’re forgiven,” Thomas said because of course, he was, he always was… 

He hurried out of the room after speaking. And took in a few sharp breaths and felt thankful Jimmy was going to be locked away in his room for the day and probably the night. Because it would be too much to see his face anytime soon. His heart was in his throat. He dug out his cigarettes, and his almost lost lighter and hurried down the stairs to the outside to have a long smoke.


	10. Sick

Without thought to the tickle in his throat, Thomas inhaled the smoke of his cigarette into his lungs only to start sputtering and coughing, it catching in his throat. He bent over, trying to catch his breath and felt a strong hand on his back, slapping it a bit. Thomas wasn’t sure if it was helping, but he appreciated the gesture. He coughed a bit more and met Jimmy’s eyes and was surprised at the amount of concern he saw in his expression. 

“Might wanna put that out,” Jimmy said indicating the cigarette. 

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice sounded wrecked. 

“No. You’re not.” Jimmy shook his head. “You look pasty and horrible.”

Thomas frowned his vanity rising. “I do not.” 

Jimmy laughed, and his hand came up and landed on Thomas’ forehead. Thomas stopped breathing at the touch, at the feeling of Jimmy’s warm hand against his skin. He tried not to flinch or show his reaction. Not that it seemed to matter because Jimmy was frowning. “You’ve got a temperature, I think.” 

“I’m fine,” Thomas argued again. 

“We should go inside. It’s too cold out here,” Jimmy muttered and started to turn away. 

“We just got out here,” Thomas said and lifted his cigarette to mouth. 

Jimmy turned back and reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth. “Thomas, you’re ill,” he snapped. “Bloody hell, we’re going inside and…” he plucked the cigarette out his hand and dropped to the ground, stomping it with his foot.  
“That was drastic…” Thomas muttered, and he looked at the wasted cigarette on the ground in annoyance.

“Inside,” Jimmy whined his voice laced with impatience. 

“I’m…” his throat caught on him again, and he started coughing. Thomas glared at the look Jimmy was giving him. It was a told-you-so, and it was annoying and a bit lovely. “Fine,” he muttered feeling irritated that he had to admit defeat. 

“Good,” Jimmy grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the door. 

Thomas stumbled a bit, his eyes on their hands and his brain starting to catch up more with what was happening. He was sick and knew it, but he always ignored his colds until they went away — the day wasn’t going to happen without him. He had to do his job no matter what, it didn’t matter if he was tired and his eyes itched. He wasn’t given Carson any reason to think he wasn’t up to snuff. It was the principle of the matter. 

But here he was walking into the warmth of the Abbey, with Jimmy’s warm palm against his own, their hands holding on tight to the other. He was holding for life because Jimmy was walking too fast, all impatience — to get Thomas inside. He pulled Thomas all the way to the servant's hall and deposited him in the rocking chair by the fire. 

Thomas blinked up at him, and Jimmy’s eyes seemed to widen as he surveyed him in the chair. He looked around like he’d forgotten where they were, but then he shrugged and glared at him. “Don’t move. I mean it. I’m getting you tea.” 

“Jimmy…” Thomas started to protest.

“Just shut up,” Jimmy muttered at him and turned toward the kitchen. 

Thomas tried to stop him but he started coughing again, and it was hurting his throat, and he felt a bit lightheaded. He’d been ignoring all of this — but Jimmy made it impossible to now. 

“Mr. Barrow?” Mrs. Hughes walked into the servant’s hall from the kitchen and Thomas sighed at the sight of her. Her brow was furrowed, and he knew Jimmy told on him — and he wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel it. 

“I’m fine,” he told her before she asked, but his voice was all wrong.

“No, I dare say you are not…” she touched his forehead. “Okay, tea and then up to bed for a lie in. I’ll settle things with Mr. Carson.”

“I can…”

“Oh, just bloody listen to her,” Jimmy snapped coming back into the room. 

“James, I will not have swearing in the servant’s hall,” Mrs. Hughes said, but it lacked bite. “I trust you to get him upstairs and then get back to work?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Jimmy said. 

She nodded and left the room.

Jimmy stood in front of him and handed him the cup of tea. “Mrs. Patmore put honey in it for your throat.” 

Thomas nodded and took it, he felt his cheeks flushing and hoped Jimmy thought it was another symptom. He wasn’t sure what to do with this — why was he being so…. Nurturing? “You don’t have to play nursemaid, Jimmy.” 

Jimmy laughed and turned a chair around so he could sit facing Thomas. “Yeah, I’m sure my bedside manner is stunning.” 

“It leaves a bit to be desired,” Thomas chuckled and drank his tea to avoid looking at Jimmy directly. 

“Yeah, well you’re a terrible patient, Mr. Barrow…” Jimmy shook his head. “Promise me you’ll sleep? Get some rest?” 

Thomas gave him a confused look. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Cause you rather work,” Jimmy muttered. 

“I would, but Mrs. Hughes just took that out of my hands…” Thomas frowned. 

“No reading.”

“What?”

“No reading, you look exhausted. Just sleep.”

“It helps me sleep.”

“You’re sick you won’t need help sleeping,” he countered. 

“Jimmy…”

“Thomas, I mean it… I heard you hacking up a lung all night, you know.”

He blushed at the thought he was heard through the walls and wondered if he kept anyone else awake. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your sleep…”

“I’m not complaining,” Jimmy huffed. 

Thomas finished the tea and stood up, putting the empty cup on the fireplace mantle. He met Jimmy’s eyes and watched him jump back up to his feet. They stared at each other for beat and Thomas wasn’t at all sure if he was light-headed from the cold or from the way Jimmy was looking at him. It was different, and it was odd to him — the concern etched on Jimmy’s face. He liked it. Far too much and he felt his cheeks heat again and realized he felt overheated. He was too warm, and he looked away from Jimmy. 

“Come on,” Jimmy muttered the moment Thomas broke their eye contact, and he grabbed his hand again. He pulled him up the stairs, walking a bit too fast and Thomas felt dizzy, but he knew he wouldn’t fall. Not with the hold Jimmy had on him and decided to revel in it. It would probably never happen again. 

Suddenly, they were in his room, and Jimmy stood just inside the door and looked around it. “Do I need to steal your books?”

Thomas laughed. 

“Sleep,” Jimmy commanded.

“I’ll rest…” Thomas muttered.

“I’ll, um…. Check in later,” Jimmy said and looked everywhere but at Thomas.

“Thank you, Jimmy,” Thomas breathed the surprise he felt evident in his voice. 

“For what… mates aren’t we?” Jimmy met his eyes. “You’d do the same…more probably,” Jimmy laughed and broke eye contact again. “Later. Rest.” 

“Yes,” Thomas nodded.

Jimmy left his room, and Thomas walked forward and shut the door. He smiled but shook his head. He wasn’t at all sure what happened, and he found it bizarre that Jimmy was being a mother hen -- where had that come from?


	11. The Flame

It was cold out. Thomas lit his lighter and stared at the flame and tried to remember if it been cold that night. Chances were it was, but that wasn’t his focus. The filth and the stink of blood and rot were all he remembered. And the tea. He could taste the tea, too sweet due to the condensed milk and Matthew Crawley’s voice as he pontificated about the things that really mattered. What mattered was life, Thomas thought. It was all he could think. What mattered was his life — and he wasn’t going to have one if he stayed. He watched too many die but the final straw had been someone being shot in the head in front of him. He still had nightmares about it, the quickness, the suddenness, the irony of the conversation. The simple fact it could’ve been him. He wasn’t meant to die in the dirt. Not like all the others, all he did was watch people die, bloody, ignoble deaths. 

“Thomas?”

Startled he closed the lighter. The flame was gone, and it seemed impossibly dark outside. He looked up and saw nothing but black sky. Where were the stars? He looked at Jimmy, who looked wary but he stayed where he was, and he was looking at Thomas. He looked befuddled. 

“It’s late,” Jimmy said.

“Is it?”

“Almost one.”

“Oh…” the day was over he thought. It was no longer that anniversary. He could stop thinking about it. But he lit the lighter and looked at the flame again. So much like the flame that saved him. 

“You’ve been odd all day…” Jimmy said his voice low.

“Odd?” Thomas asked. 

“Quiet. Distant…” Jimmy chuckled. “I don’t know. Just different.” 

“I suppose.”

“Was it O’Brien and her weird mutterings about the war?”

Thomas laughed. 

“Okay, no then?”

“You know her, wanting to cause trouble. Was probably bored thought she’d try to get under my skin. Worry at a thread that she thinks means I feel guilty…” 

“About?”

Thomas looked at him. “She thinks me a coward. Most would, you too probably…” 

“You a coward?” Jimmy shook his head. “Impossible.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. 

“You’re brave, Thomas,” Jimmy said his voice soft. 

Thomas felt his cheeks flush with heat and he looked away from Jimmy and back to the flame. He was burning out the fuel but… He looked at Jimmy again and swallowed. 

“Today… well, yesterday now is an anniversary of a sort.” 

“Of?”

Thomas lifted his left hand up. 

“Your Blighty?” Jimmy asked. “Never have told me how that happened.”

“I couldn’t stand it any longer. Two years of blood and guts and dirt and death. I was at the end of my rope. I stayed much longer I’d have a bullet in me — not my hand but my head.” He shuddered the fear of it still palpable even years later. 

“What?”

“I walked away, where no one was, where no one would see me…” he moved the lighter closer to Jimmy. “You know why I love this lighter, Jimmy?”

Jimmy’s eyes flicked to the lighter and back to Thomas’ face. 

“I sat down in the dirt, back against the wall of the trench. I lit it and lifted it up and over the edge. Let the German’s see the flame, and they did exactly what I wanted to them to do…”

Jimmy gasped. 

“O’Brien she knows what I did, but she thought she could wind me up, make me feel a coward. But I never do… I never do. The scar is ugly and ragged. But I can hide it easily enough. And the truth is when I look at it all I think is better bullet there than my head. I wasn’t going survive much longer unless I got myself away from the filth and blood of it all.”

Silence fell. Thomas flicked his eyes toward Jimmy for a moment. He was staring at the flame, jaw clenched, and Thomas wondered if he should’ve kept his mouth shut. Wondered why he chose to tell him, he never meant to tell anyone — they wouldn’t understand. He knew now O’Brien hadn’t — not really. Jimmy was different, or he hoped he was, and his heart started pounding. 

“Give me a cigarette,” Jimmy said suddenly and he moved to they were standing closer, side by side, his shoulder brushing against Thomas’.

“What?” Thomas stuttered. 

“Out here, we might as well smoke…” he reached out and plucked the lighter from Thomas’ hand. A smooth and practiced motion. He winked at him and held out his hand. 

The bout of worry slid away, and he knew he was right. He could trust Jimmy, and that caused his head to spin. Was that what he just done? Trusted someone else? He pulled out two cigarettes and Jimmy lit both and pocketed the lighter with a smirk. 

“Not going to stop stealing it then…”

“Never.” Jimmy winked as he puffed on his cigarette. 

Thomas shook his head and inhaled a lungful of smoke.

“You’re insanely brave.” 

Thomas choked on the smoke. “What?”

“I would’ve chickened out if the thought even occurred to me — which it didn’t because I was in three months and trying to find a way to get out that wouldn’t get me labeled a coward. Wasn’t in long, not like you…” 

“Jimmy…”

“I mean it. You don’t hold a hand up waiting for a bullet without a level of insane bravery. And I thought walking in head first to a beating was brave…” he turned and looked at him. “Always full of surprises aren’t you?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “It was surviving that’s all.”

“Motivation maybe but the how…” Jimmy whistled. 

Thomas turned away from him and felt unsettled. Jimmy’s shoulder pressed against his own and the only sounds was the two of the smoking for a long time. He looked back up at the black sky and sighed. 

“You know if it’s gonna be cloudy enough there are no stars the least we could get is some snow. It’s fucking freezing out here, we should go in…” Jimmy said a few minutes later.

Thomas nodded, and they turned in unison and walked inside. Up the stairs and to Jimmy’s door, where Thomas paused for a brief second. Jimmy met his eyes and smirked as he pulled the lighter out of his pocket and laid it on his palm and offered it back to Thomas. He laughed, surprised by the quick return and plucked it out of Jimmy’s hand. 

“You should get engraved.”

“What?”

“Engrave it, you know…mark it with the date or something.”

“Why?”

“It was how you survived innit? Pretty important token, souvenir, treasure? Whatever… just don’t know.”

“It’s enough as it is.”

“Maybe… glad you did it.”

“Really?” Thomas stared at him.

“I mean painful hand would aside…” Jimmy’s laugh sounded nervous. “Just knew few guys who thought their time was up and… well, it was… You survived, Thomas, so…” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” Jimmy ducked his head and opened his door. “Goodnight,” he muttered before disappearing inside. 

Thomas stood in the all and felt blindsided by Jimmy Kent all over again. His heart was in his throat, and he felt dizzy. Because he’d fallen even more in love — it kept getting worse. He laughed a bit and thought maybe he should be bitter about it. The friendship was supposed to make it easier, make him feel less for Jimmy because he was a mate and not some distant want… 

But it wasn’t working that way because his heart kept getting in deeper. Because Jimmy was different, Jimmy was above everyone else. Jimmy was Jimmy. And somehow he understood him, and it made Thomas dizzy.


	12. Blunt Lines

Despite the constant veiled remarks about the lack of a need of an Under Butler, Carson kept adding more and more of his duties to Thomas’ list of tasks to accomplish during the day. So much so that Carson allowed Thomas to sit at his desks a few nights a week and deal with the paperwork that was generated. A part of him relished it, loved it even — he was good at it. Amazing even, the Crawley’s never noticed that certain things had been handed off to his hands rather than Carson’s. He knew Carson trusted him keep things up to his exacting standards. But it always went unspoken. He never thanked Thomas, or praised him — Thomas told himself he was being entrusted, but it wasn't enough to know it. Some praise would be nice because he put in the hours, the time and he did everything to perfection. 

Especially when people went out of their way to tell that oaf Alfred, he was doing well. That oaf who had to ask for help, who was always messing up but managed to get praised when he finally did something correctly. It happened again today, and then Thomas was stuck with tedious paperwork and not one word about a job well done. 

It was nearly midnight by the time he locked up Carson’s pantry and made his way upstairs. Annoyance crawling up his spine and only one thing could promise to take it away. But the hallway was dark and when he paused by Jimmy’s door but saw no light through the cracks of it. Disappointment settled on top of his shoulders, and Thomas stooped where he stood. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal they didn’t have a nightly chat. But he wanted it. He wanted that nightly chat with Jimmy. It’d become a ritual. A tradition. They spoke almost every night, except when Thomas’ duties meant they couldn’t — and this was the second time this week they’d interrupted his time with Jimmy.

He slammed his door shut because of it, irritation making him strip out of his livery with harsh motions. Tossing his starched collar and tie to the floor. Yanking at buttons, not being careful at all as he pulled at the fabric. Until his eyes fell on his bed and saw a book in the center of it. It startled him. He kept everything in place in his room. Why was a book in the center of his bed, but as he peered closer he finally recognized it It was the poetry book Jimmy borrowed. But that been months ago, maybe longer, he thought and looked at it again and realized there was a torn piece of paper on the cover. He grabbed it and smiled immediately at Jimmy’s writing. It was all blunt lines, but it was surprisingly neat. Thomas wasn’t sure why he’d expected it to be messy but he loved the jolt of surprise being wrong about Jimmy caused him. It was something new about Jimmy. Another thing Thomas knew about him that caused a pleasant hum in his bones.

He dropped the book back on his bed and continued to get himself ready to drop into bed himself. He felt calmer. It wasn’t making up for the lack of a nightly conversation, but it’d been a bit of Jimmy to end his day. He smiled and started to straighten out the mess he made of his clothing. He loved the fact Jimmy been in and out of his room as if it was his own a bit too much — he knew if it were anyone else he would’ve found it a violation. But he told himself he wasn’t letting his mind get carried away with romantic fancies. He knew where he stood with Jimmy. They were mates. Good ones, Thomas thought — he hoped. He told Jimmy things he wouldn’t trust with another soul — and it was possible that Jimmy done the same with him.

He shook himself a bit and crawled into his bed. He picked up the book after settling himself under the covers. The plan was to flip through it for a bit, reread some of the poems and remember what the book was about, the type of poems that hid within it. He was curious because Jimmy kept the book a long time — that must mean he enjoyed it. Maybe they could talk about it? 

He started by thumbing through it, thinking to read a random page, only a piece of paper fluttered from between pages. Up into the air. Thomas watched it flip a bit in the air and land back on the book which he’d let close on his lap. He stared down at it and realized it was the same type of paper Jimmy written his note on. It was also Jimmy’s penmanship, blunt and neat lines. 

He grabbed at the paper and then let it go suddenly afraid he might rip it. Thomas swallowed and picked it up, more carefully this time and started reading. 

_It’s winter. But I’m never cold. The stars…._

After the word stars another has been crossed out with an ugly blotched of X’s and in a slightly smaller and messier scrawl above the line is written _too soppy_. Soppy? Thomas rereads the line and wonders what could’ve followed that was soppy? It was…. He wasn’t sure what he was reading. He read it again and then let his eyes fall to the next lines on the paper. 

_____ in the in between. All mine. the cracks. My secret. I might…_

Thomas stared at the splotch hiding another word and looked up at the first line of the paper. Did they fit together? What is this? Poetry? He laughed at the thought because it felt bizarre. Jimmy Kent and poetry? But the blunt lines of the writing tell him it’s Jimmy. 

It’s something surprising. And probably private. It hits him maybe he shouldn’t be reading it. There is more on the paper, more for him to see and Thomas finds himself briefly wondering if he should. Maybe he should just push the paper back into the book. He was curious though, and he already started, and it wasn’t like Jimmy would have to know. 

He wanted more of him, even the bits he wasn’t about to share — and he knew, he knew Jimmy would never share this… he'd never share a habit to write things down, to put words, in the shape of a poem. It wasn’t shallow, it wasn’t the surface and Jimmy prided himself on having a smooth and charming surface. It was his wall, and Thomas knew he only got a bit of a peek behind it. It made him proud, and he felt himself blush because he could use it to feel important. It helped him pretend he mattered to Jimmy. 

And he was greedy. He wanted more of Jimmy. Even what wasn’t given freely. He read on. 

_Cloudy silhouette blurring into dark._

Thomas reread it a few times before allowing himself to look at what seems to be a note scrawled under it this time rather than over it. _Sounds girly…but…_. Thomas rolled his eyes and smirked a bit, it would figure Jimmy would think that, but he disagreed — it sounded nice to him, not that he understood what it meant. These were just snippets he thought, fragments and he wondered if there was a whole piece of something on another piece of paper. Or maybe just in Jimmy’s head…. 

His curiosity had his heart flying, and he quickly shoved it down. He could never ask about this or speak about this. He was sticking his nose in where he hadn’t been invited. He wasn’t about to let Jimmy know he’d crossed a line. He wouldn’t be forgiven a second time, Thomas was quite sure of that, but he wasn’t going to stop. There were three more lines, written closely together on the paper. Three more fragments of a secret. 

_______ it means twin, but that’s a laugh,_  
_There can’t be someone else like ___ that is brutal truth._  
______ is wickedly different. It’s right, though. __ drawn to ___ ._

The spacing distracted Thomas. It was like room was being left for something. Words, he thought, space been left for words not written. He stared until he noticed a little arrow pointing at another note. _Avoidance._ Avoidance? Thomas reread the fragments and the note. Of what? What was he avoiding? Thomas reread the whole page and noticed other spaces left for unwritten things. All of it was fragments. None of the lines were finished, nothing was a whole. All of it could be different subjects, different thoughts entirely. He wondered what was under the ugly blotches. What was Jimmy hiding? He only had a guess one word was maybe soppy? But what Jimmy worried was girly was anything but… 

It was more mystery, and it was fueling his already large curiosity about Jimmy Kent. He thought again about how Jimmy wasn’t forthcoming. He rarely spoke the truth or let anyone see what was past his carefully constructed facade. They were alike in that way. Truly alike. But Thomas had seen a bit past it and was allowed to see past it. His heartbeat sped up as he let himself love that Jimmy let him in. Ever so slightly. Thomas let himself feel special. Jimmy couldn’t fool him completely, and he stopped trying. They were mates, and it wasn’t an empty promise made of guilt. 

But he was still learning, and Jimmy wasn’t making it easy. But that was okay because Thomas craved challenges. He needed them to feel alive, and Jimmy was the best one he ever met. He wanted more of him and he been handed a piece of the puzzle tonight. But it wasn’t enough, it was never enough. Thomas found himself thumbing the pages of the book. Hoping for another flutter of paper but nothing was there. He sighed with the disappointment, but soon he was greedily rereading everything on the page he'd been gifted, over and over, until his eyes grew tired. With an unhappy sigh he carefully placed the paper back between the pages it flown at him from. Then he put the book down on his nightstand and closed his eyes. He fell asleep wondering the shape of the cloudy silhouette. 


	13. Jimmy Kent is Amusing

Thomas was hopping into his pajama buttons when the door to his room flew open. He blinked as Jimmy barged in and then stopped so suddenly Thomas lurched forward because it looked like he was going to topple face first to the floor. Jimmy caught himself, however, and started looking around the room with a wild look on his face. 

“Jimmy?” Thomas prompted confused and more than a bit amused. 

“Um…” Jimmy stuttered and fixed his gaze on Thomas, his eyes dipping down to his chest. 

Blushing realizing at that moment he was only dressed from the waist down, Thomas turned and grabbed his pajama top. “What brings you here,” he muttered and hoped his voice sounded more even to Jimmy than it did to him. 

“Well, um… you…I…BOOKMARK.” 

Thomas turned back around, stilling buttoning his top distracted again by Jimmy’s strange behavior. “What now?”

“My bookmark, yeah….” Jimmy nodded. “I think I left it in the book…of, what was it? Poems?”

“Oh,” Thomas tried to curtail the wide smile that threatened — he’d been reading and rereading that piece of paper Jimmy left in the book. Trying to find more insight into him. He stared at him now, and more amusement rose up at how out of sorts he looked — never seen Jimmy out of control of his limbs and his bearing. He looked utterly lost, and Thomas knew he was right in pretending he never found the piece of paper. But he was loathed to give it up.

“Yeah, it’s um… I really like it.”

“The book?”

“What? Yes, yeah, it was amazi — er it was okay for a book of soppy poems. I mean, my bookmark -- I love it.” 

“Right… I didn’t notice anything in it.”

“Thank God…” Jimmy nearly shouted, and he was looking around the room. “Where the fuck is your bookcase…” 

“Where’s it always been,” Thomas laughed. 

“Right…” Jimmy inhaled so sharply he whistled. 

Thomas fought not to laugh at him as he was simultaneously drinking in the sight of a crazed Jimmy to put it in his memories. He was beautiful upset as he tried to guard one of his biggest secrets. Thomas knew maybe he should be kinder, but he was enjoying it all too much. He pointed toward the small bookcase, which stood in the place he put it years ago. 

Jimmy rushed over and started staring at the shelves. Thomas watched him run his hands through his hair, messing it up even more than it’d already been by his flying into Thomas’ room. He walked up behind him. “Second book on the second shelf,” Thomas said right into his ear.

Jimmy jumped right out of his skin and let out a yelp. “Don’t sneak up on me like that…” he shouted.

“Sorry,” Thomas held his hands up. 

Jimmy huffed and grabbed the book. Then he stood there holding it and looking at Thomas. Thomas watched him. Jimmy turned a deep shade of red and turned around, putting his back to Thomas. Then he quickly thumbed through the book and let out a long sigh of relief. There was the sound of paper, and Thomas caught enough over Jimmy’s shoulder to see he shoved it into his pocket. 

“Well, whew…” Jimmy laughed nervously. “I’ll let you get to bed now, Mr. Barrow.”

Thomas eyebrows rose at the Mr. Barrow — usually once they were off shift it was Thomas. Jimmy saw his expression and shrugged in response before he scurried out of the room. Thomas followed him to the door and watched him walk down the hallway. Jimmy stopped at his door and turned to look back at Thoams door. He seemed to startle again when he saw Thomas staring at him. 

“Good night,” Thomas said and hoped it didn’t sound like he was laughing.

“Yeah…Thomas…” Jimmy said, and then he disappeared into his room. 

Thomas shook his head, bemused and a bit turned on. But that was usual, it didn’t take much for his intense attraction to Jimmy to cause problems. He found himself not at all irritated about it for once… He was too amused. He’d known Jimmy wouldn’t want anyone to know he wrote poetry. It didn’t fit the image he carefully maintained. But Thomas couldn’t help thinking that his reactions tonight — on realizing he left the scrap of paper in the book were quite extreme. 

His entire body language had been wild and panicked motions. His voice was higher than usual, and though they’d made eye contact, it was nearly as often or as direct as their usual. Which was something Thomas always treasured, he liked when their eyes met, and they didn’t turn away. He liked the heat he felt on his skin and the heaviness in his chest. He was a masochist because it killed him all the same. But tonight, the times they did he felt light and free… 

Jimmy Kent was quite amusing.


	14. Good Riddance

Thomas started laughing. It welled up in his chest, and he doubled over where he sat and reached out and clapped his hand against Jimmy’s thigh without any thought. Amusement continued to bubble out of him, and he reached and took the bottle of whiskey out of Jimmy’s hand and swallowed another long gulp of it and let it burn at his throat. 

“Have you gone mad?”

“I was just thinking how much like O’Brien you are,” Thomas grinned at him and started laughing again. 

“What?” Jimmy stared at him blankly for a beat and then his face twisted into a sour expression and he yanked the bottle out of Thomas' hand. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

“No, no,” he laughed, and air snorted out through his nose. It made him laugh harder, and maybe Jimmy had a point about the drink. “It makes sense.”

“Does not,” Jimmy muttered. 

“It’s just… our friendships have things in common.”

“What?”

Thomas tried to stop laughing. 

“Seriously, you’re blotto.” 

“It’s that… we smoked, we complained, we were…. Better than them,” Thomas' voice grew snarky. “So much better than them…”

“The Crawleys or everyone else?”

“Both.”

Jimmy snorted. “She’s not better than them, she’s a right witch.”

“But she thought she was…” Thomas shook his head. “Thinks she is, is just wrong, innit she…” Thomas leaned against Jimmy’s shoulders. “We’re better than them, her, all of them.”

“Sure are,” Jimmy grinned. 

“But yeah, you and her have things in common.”

Jimmy shot him another sour look. “Stop comparing me to that… Bitch.” 

Thomas laughed. 

“It’s not funny.”

“Innit?” Thomas grinned at him and tried to clear his head a bit. “It’s just, she and I would smoke, for ages, and complain. Like we do — or sort of like we do…” he blinked at Jimmy. It was clear in his mind, but words were failing him, and maybe it was the whiskey making his mind muddled. But it was clear to him. “Just similarities to our friendships.”

“She was no friend to you,” Jimmy pointed out his voice dripping with disdain. 

“No, no, not at the end. She ran hot and cold. You’re, you’re…you’re just…” Thomas touched his face and grinned. “You’re just hot.” 

“Hot?” Jimmy laughed. 

“Sunshine,” Thomas mumbled and looked away from Jimmy. He was blushing, and he wasn’t quite sure why it was his cheeks were flaming. He yanked the bottle back from Jimmy and swallowed more of it.

“I’m cutting you off… and that’s strange.” Jimmy laughed. 

“I just.. We were, she and I, friends once.”

“What happened?”

“Her. I don’t know. She hated the Crawleys, she hated her, her Ladyship… except when she felt guilty. I never understood her. Felt so bad for what she did, with the baby…”

“Baby?” 

Thomas sobered a bit and looked at Jimmy. “She killed the Ladyship’s baby… it’s how. Well, I gave Mr. Bates the words to use, to use that against her, to get her too… It’s why I got to be Under Butler.” 

“You mean her sudden change of heart about the reference?”

“Related. She dropped some soap. She thought — not sure why she thought it, but she thought she was going to fire. It wasn’t at all true, but she thought it was… She left the soap, her Ladyship slipped and had a miscarriage. Never forgave herself for it. But she hated her too… Never could figure her out.” 

“You… You could have used that against her the whole time?”

Thomas laughed, but it came out sad. “I couldn’t… Don’t know why, but we were friends. I thought…I thought — aren’t their some lines you don’t cross?”

Jimmy was staring at him, expression odd and contorted. Something shining in his eyes and Thomas didn’t think it was the drink. Jimmy looked away and started shaking his head, his shoulders seemed stiff. “That bitch nearly made me destroy you!” 

Thomas panicked and reached forward, covering Jimmy’s mouth with his hand because he couldn’t conjure the words he needed to tell him to be quiet. It was late, and they were drunk, and it wouldn’t do to get caught. He stared at Jimmy, silent and with the hope, he got the message. Jimmy’s expression told Thomas he was fuming with anger, but Thomas didn’t think it was at him and his eyes finally softened, and he nodded. 

“Sorry,” he muttered and glanced toward the door to Thomas room. It was closed, and it was locked. To give them time to hide the whiskey, though explaining Jimmy’s presence might cause a problem. Carson hated anyone stepping into Thomas’ room. 

“She’s a bitch,” Jimmy hissed at him. “You shouldn’t have…. You protected her?”

Thomas sighed and the weird disappointment he felt about her leaving rose up in his chest again, and he felt himself slouch down. He slid on the wood that was underneath him. They were sitting on the floor, backs against his bed, but he felt like maybe he was falling. But suddenly a strong arm was around his middle, and he lurched up and into Jimmy. Jimmy felt hot against him and he thought again how he was like the sun. That was what he was trying to tell him before but that wouldn’t do — he couldn’t say that out loud. 

“Cutting you off,” Jimmy muttered again and took the whiskey from him. Thomas startled surprised to realize it was at his mouth. “You miss her?”

“No,” Thomas shook his head. “No.”

“You sure? Cause I thought we were celebrating. Good riddance and all that… But?”

“She was a good friend, once.” 

“Shows it oddly.”

“Maybe I’m just easy to hate…” Thomas whispered. 

“What. NO,” Jimmy sounded too loud again.

Thomas opened his eyes wide and glared at him, eyes dropping to his mouth and getting distracted by the shape of it. “Shh…”

“Stop making me angry then,” Jimmy muttered, and he took a long gulp of the whiskey before setting down on the other side of him and out of Thomas’ reach. “She tried to destroy you and for what? Cause you wouldn’t help Alfred?” 

“Took it as a betrayal.”

“Fuck that…” Jimmy shook his head. “I was… a coward, letting her… I’ll never forgive myself.” 

“Why?” Thomas asked. 

“Why?” Jimmy stared at him like he was daft. “Because you… I nearly didn’t…” he shook his head some more and looked away from Thomas. “Good riddance to her, I say.” 

“Good riddance,” Thomas breathed out, and he felt the relief at it. She was gone. He would never see her dour expression again or have to listen to her barbs about his feelings for Jimmy. Never have to fear her whispered words might get under Jimmy’s skin again and cause Thomas to lose him. “Couldn’t stand it…” Thomas whispered and he touched Jimmy’s thigh again. 

“What?”

Thomas stared at his friend. His mate. His real friend. “You’re nothing like her.”

Jimmy grinned at him, his whole face lighting up and Thomas thought about the sun again. 

“It’s just…” Thomas wasn’t sure at all what he wanted to say.

“She was a sour person, who wasn’t happy unless everyone was unhappy — from what we know about Lady Flintshire guess she found the right Lady to be a maid for… They’ll probably make each other miserable.”

Thomas laughed.

“But miserable in Bombay…. I hate her more for that. Getting to travel, out of the country. I’d kill to leave England,” Jimmy let out a long sigh.

Thomas felt fear stab at his chest, and he shook his head at the thought of Jimmy leaving and then a question formed. “But you could’ve gone to France.”

“No, no, I couldn’t have gone to France.”

“You keep bragging about how Anstruther…”

“Yeah, well, she wanted it too much for my comfort…”

Thomas frowned. “Jimmy?”

“Nothing… forget it.”

Thomas sighed and moved a bit, so he was pressing even more against Jimmy. He felt afraid he might slide down the floor again, and he felt Jimmy’s arm tighten around his waist. Something about that made him feel even fuzzier like he had drunk more whiskey but he knew he hadn’t. His eyelids felt heavy, and he felt wonderfully warm. 

“I won’t miss her,” he said.

“No one will,” Jimmy said. “Sad, that.” 

Thomas nodded in agreement, and the world went blissfully dark.


	15. It's Just Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little New Years Eve Snapshot

He felt trapped inside of his own skin. Everyone was too boisterous. Everyone was too happy. Too optimistic. The air was full of nothing but laughter and well wishes. It grated on his nerves and made him want to claw his way out of his skin. It was what he hated most about New Year’s Eve. All the smiles and wishes for a happy a New Year as if it was expected. As if a good year would come into being simply because everyone smiled, laughed and sang some old song. It was all lies. It was pointless. Every year was the same as the one before, and Thomas wasn’t in the mood to paste a false smile on his face and pretend he believed a happy year might be in his future. He felt crowded and too hot, he couldn’t stand seeing one more smile at him and ask him what his resolutions were — he had none, there was no point, tomorrow was just another bloody day. 

He rushed outside. It was his only recourse, he couldn’t stand the sight of them. The Bates’ all moon-eyed and happy. Mrs. Hughes with her kind grin — it annoyed him. Molesley with his talk about resolution and how this year would be his for his taking — his endless optimism was draining. Thomas wanted to punch walls. He was hot and overheated from being on his feet since before sunrise. Exhausted and feeling taken for granted as neither Carson or Lord Grantham noticed anything he did right. 

It was all too much. 

The cold air was a relief as he opened the door. A gust of wind whipped through him, but he walked into it gladly. It was snowing, small little flakes falling in a heavy sheet. They stung against the skin of his hand as he pulled out his cigarettes but he welcomed it. It felt better than the incessant warmth that was inside the Abbey right now. He wanted cold. He wanted bitter. Maybe he could start to feel like he could breathe. 

Thomas settled against the wall under the alcove and lit a cigarette. He listened to the heavy snowfall and the whistle of the wind. It was a soothing sound, a quiet one that he could pretend was silence. It was better than the exaggerated cheer and the screeching laughter from inside. Maybe it would leech away the irritation that had seeped underneath his skin. 

He heard the creak of the door to the Abbey and scowled. Irritation rising instead of falling. Was there nowhere he could go to escape? He wanted to be alone. He wanted to clear his head and not think at all. But he looked across the yard, glaring at the figure walking out of the Abby. And his annoyance vanished the moment he recognized Jimmy. He stepped outside in the snow his hands rubbing them together against the cold. He stared at Thomas from just outside the door and shook his head.

“Are you mad?” he asked.

Thomas found he had no answer. 

“It’s too cold out here, come inside…” Jimmy started to turn as if he expected Thomas to follow him.

“No,” he answered.

“No?” Jimmy turned back toward him.

“No.”

Jimmy huffed at and wrapped his arms around himself. Thomas expected him to turn around and walk back into the Abbey and toward all the loud cheer. Jimmy belonged with it, he thought, he was boisterous and loud. He loved to celebrate any occasion. This was a holiday made for someone like Jimmy. Someone bright and bold and lucky. But Jimmy didn’t move, he stood where he was and stared at Thomas. After awhile impatience flickered across his features and he hugged himself tighter against the cold. 

“I’m staying here,” Thomas said, giving in and stating the obvious. He had no intention of going inside until the celebrations were over. 

“Daft,” Jimmy said. 

“It’s better out here.”

“It’s a bloody blizzard out here,” Jimmy sputtered. 

“I like it.” 

Jimmy scowled which Thomas found impressive because his teeth were chattering. “You’ll get sick, Thomas… come on…” 

“I don’t want to go inside.” Thomas winced at the petulance in his voice.

Silence and then after a beat. “Why?” 

“I hate this bloody holiday,” he snapped and regretted it.

“What?”

“It’s just another day tomorrow, Jimmy, no different than the day before it.” 

Jimmy didn’t say anything, but his glare didn’t let up, and Thomas expected another attempt to drag him inside. He recognized the stubborn jut of his jaw. The fear he might get into a fight with him made his irritation spike again, and he really needed Jimmy to leave. He was in a mood, and he didn’t want to take it out on him, and he willed Jimmy to go inside.

“Fine,” Jimmy hissed. “Have it your way.” 

Thomas watched him spin on his heel and hurry back inside. He sighed. It was what he wanted, but now he was being stabbed stab with disappointment. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to feel the cold and smoke a few cigarettes and forget about what was happening inside. He wanted silence. He wasn’t in the mood for company, it was why he was outside in a snowstorm in the first place. Jimmy was usually an exception to his moods, but tonight he felt too vexed to want him around. It’d be better for Jimmy. And he had been freezing, obviously more bothered by the cold and the snow than him. Thomas was just angry and bitter enough that it was keeping him warm. No, he didn’t want Jimmy out here with him. It was better Jimmy stayed inside, he belonged in the warmth that was grating on Thomas' nerves. 

The wind picked up, and Thomas felt like ice was dropped down his spine. But he inhaled the sharp air and felt it in his lungs like it was smoke, he held it there for awhile before he breathed it out. Then he inhaled on the cigarette. He was cold, but it was better than feeling too hot and trapped under his skin. He was slowly breathing a bit easier even if his mood wasn’t shifting. 

He heard the creak of the door and turned to watch Jimmy stomped out of it. He’d put on his coat and a hat. He was carrying Thomas’ coat and hat. He stomped straight over and thrust them into Thomas' chest. But Thomas stared at Jimmy blankly. Much more surprised by his appearance than he’d been the first time he stumbled out into the snow.

“Put ‘em on, Thomas.” Jimmy pressed the coat into Thomas’ body.

He stayed speechless.

“Go on,” Jimmy ordered his voice hard. And Thomas found himself complying and grudgingly thought it did take away a bit of the bitter bite in a good way. But he wanted to feel the bite, so he kept unbuttoned and liked how the next gust of wind lifted the fabric. He watched snow swirl around them and realized Jimmy taken his usual place beside them — like this was a smoke break and not Thomas sulking. So, he lit two cigarettes and handed one to Jimmy. 

Jimmy took it and inhaled. He blew the smoke out right at Thomas’ face. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

Thomas sputtered, “No one is making you do anything.”

“Yes, you are…. It’s bloody freezing out here.”

“Then go inside, Jimmy,” Thomas snapped. “I didn’t ask you to stay.” 

Jimmy huffed. 

Thomas watched him and sighed. “I’m in no mood for company.”

“Too bad. Not letting you bring in the New Year alone.” 

“Used to it, aren’t I?” Thomas muttered.

“Thomas?”

“Forget it,” Thomas mumbled, and he looked at Jimmy. Their eyes locked and he didn’t like what he saw in Jimmy’s eyes. There was something there that made Thomas feel vulnerable and too wide open. He was vulnerable enough around Jimmy, his feelings always too close to surface. He was always afraid he would scare him away. But Jimmy held his gaze and seemed to move closer. Thomas realized he could hear Jimmy’s teeth, clacking together, they were chattering from the cold. “Go inside.”

“Why?” Jimmy asked.

“You’re cold.”

“And you’re shivering.”

“I’m…” he started to argue but realized he was, but he didn’t care. It was better than feeling trapped inside and stuck surrounded by merriment he couldn’t feel. 

“I… I’m not letting you start this year alone,” Jimmy said. “Don’t care if you're used to it, Thomas.” 

Thomas looked away from him and tried not to feel those words. Tried not to let them get to him. It was a thing he wished he could hate about his friendship with Jimmy. How much it meant, every little tiny thing Jimmy did in the name of friendship. It worked under his skin and made his chest warm — in a way that helped him breathe rather than make it harder. But it choked him up too and overwhelmed him. 

“I usually feel alone too,” Jimmy said. 

“What?”

“Holidays, you know… since my parents died. Always felt alone until…” Jimmy chuckled nervous and scuffed a line in the snow with his shoe. “This year.” 

“Why is this year different?” Thomas asked.

Jimmy looked at him, he stared at him hard, until Thomas met his eyes. Then Thomas felt stared into as Jimmy shook his head at him. “You, innit? It’s you. Never had a best mate to share it with and Christmas was nice and was looking forward tonight.” 

Thomas’ mouth fell open. 

Jimmy kept shaking his head. “But you’re in a mood, so here I am freezing my arse off.” 

Thomas stumbled from the shock of it. 

“Whoa, don’t fall…” Jimmy’s hands grabbed at his arms to keep him steady.

Thomas stared at him at his face, his beautiful face and his blue eyes. He watched Jimmy meet his eyes and hold his gaze. Jimmy’s hands squeezed his arms, and he smiled shyly. 

“Thomas?”

“We’re friends.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy nodded.

All the irritation that been making his skin crawl and feel too heated. All his annoyance at the holiday that been making him ache with loneliness vanished. It went poof, and Thomas felt light. He felt like he was floating and he stared at Jimmy’ beautiful face and the blue of his eyes, and he grinned. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“This year is different… I have you.”

Jimmy blushed, and his hands dropped from Thomas’s arms. It was a tiny disappointment, the loss of his touch but it couldn’t touch the sudden happiness he was feeling. He felt elated, and he grinned wider. At Jimmy. His friend, the man who was making everything different. It was all changing. His year wasn’t destined to be the same lonely slog he faced every January. 

No, this year he had a friend. One who was standing outside with him in a blizzard, uncomfortable in the cold with his teeth chattering, just because he wanted to spend the holiday with him. 

“Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy New Year.”

“Really?” Jimmy grinned.

“Yeah…” Thomas nodded.

“Happy New Year,” Jimmy nudged him with his shoulder.

Thomas leaned into his weight, and they stayed like that. Standing, watching it snow until Jimmy wrapped a hand around Thomas’ upper arm and dragged him through the snow and into the Abbey.


	16. Drifting

heated dreams out of bitter cold  
duality of smoke and ice     stark and soft        **No    Maybe**

upended  
always

Falling     
unknown misunderstood the kindness mutes the angles        **Afraid**

~~~

The piece of paper looked crumbled and straightened out again — maybe more than once. The paper felt worn thin and worried over. Thomas was afraid of ripping it, and he bit his lower lip with concentration as he reread the words over again. Trying to commit to memory because it would disappear. Jimmy wouldn’t realize he left it in the book and he would find a way to ferret it back into his hands.

The excuse of leaving behind a bookmark. Finding a moment to enter Thomas’ room unseen. Much like he returned the books in the first place. Walking in and placing them down on the bed. He rarely returned a book directly, and now he rarely stole back his words directly. 

Stole was the wrong word, Thomas ran his eyes across the words again and wondered why they felt like they belonged to him. He didn’t understand them, snippets of things that made little sense. Scribbles and things crossed out and Jimmy’s thoughts to the side, written more darkly than the attempts at…

Prose? Poetry? 

It was Thomas’ secret, and maybe that was why they felt like his words. He knew something about Jimmy that would make the other man blush and stammer. He knew Jimmy for all his bluster and bravado against things sentimental that he felt deeply, he felt things enough he needed to get them onto paper out of his fingertips. 

He read words, and he wrote them. He was clever. Jimmy was heart and soul. Thomas sighed as love rolled through him and he lost count of how it could seep over him like warm water and make his heart catch in his chest and cause a stutter of breath to pass through his mouth. 

Thomas carefully placed the worn paper and whispered, _unknown misunderstood the kindness mutes the angles_ and wondered what it meant and why it scared Jimmy. He yawned, exhausting rolling through him, it was late, far past midnight. He pressed the paper against the page, where Jimmy left it, in the center of a murder mystery and Thomas wondered if something in the chapter matched the phrasings and imagery. 

He would read it later, but usually, the placements were random, weren’t connected. It was just where Jimmy left pieces of paper, in the middle of random books as if maybe just reading made him think about his own words. Thomas nodded and closed the book…

And the thump of it coinciding with a knock on his door. He looked toward the door, from where he sat on his bed, the book in his hands. It opened, and Jimmy was there. Hair flopping into his eyes, ready for bed and looking younger than he was…. Boyish and shy. He stared not at Thomas but the book in his hands and his face twisted into fear. 

It hurt Thomas, Jimmy didn’t want to share his secret, something bitter twisted in his chest, but it flickered away quickly. They were his words, he told himself again. Jimmy was allowed his secrets, and maybe he shouldn’t flip through the books to see if pieces of paper were left behind. Maybe he should be respecting Jimmy’s limits…

But he wanted to know all of him and if he could take a peek inside. He would. 

“I, uh… are you reading that again? You know who did it, kind of takes away the appeal?” Jimmy said, and Thomas was impressed by the smoothness of his voice, given the wildness he saw behind his eyes. 

“I like finding the clues I may have missed,” Thomas explained, though he had no intention of rereading the book. 

“Oh,” Jimmy nodded and stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him, indicating no intention to stay. 

“Why are you here?” Thomas asked, playing along. 

“Think I left my bookmark in there…” Jimmy stared at the book. 

Something perverse rushed through Thomas, and he flipped the pages of the book, looking at them as they whizzed by his fingers and Jimmy’s gasp of fear reverberated through the room. Then Jimmy’s hands were grabbing the book, yanking it from Thomas’ grasp. He looked up and caught that wild and panicked look in Jimmy’s eyes as he stumbled back a bit. 

“Don’t see anything,” Thomas said. 

Jimmy was flipping through, near the center of the book and it looked like his hands were shaking. “It’s just a scrap of paper,” he muttered. 

"Odd bookmark that…"

"Just uh… has some scribbles on it." His eyes widened, impossibly open as he spoke. "I mean, it's… nothing…" the paper flittered out of the book and into the air. 

Jimmy tried to snatch but reached out too wildly, too afraid to not catch it, so he missed it. It seemed to float in the air, Thomas tracked it as it slowly drifted to the floor and near Jimmy's feet. He watched Jimmy quickly bend down and snatch it from the ground, he heard the paper rip. 

They both cringed. Thomas hoped it wasn't torn across any of the words. Jimmy winced as he looked down at it in his hands. He frowned, clenched his jaw. He then stepped forward toward Thomas bed and handed out of the book. "Here, you can go back to your clues."

Thomas stared at the paper in Jimmy's hand and wished he could. But he took the book and nodded. "Goodnight, Jimmy."

Jimmy nodded and turned. He walked through the open the door. Thomas watched him, he always watched every move, eyes tracking his shoulders, his back, the curve of his arse. Jimmy turned around and looked back into the room. Their eyes met, and Jimmy swallowed and looked ready to say something. 

Thomas waited.

Jimmy's head shook back and forth. 

Thomas held in his sigh. 

"Goodnight," Jimmy closed the door.


	17. Migraine

His head felt likely to fall off his neck. Thomas cringed at the cracking he heard as he tried to straighten his neck out. Hoping maybe it would release some of its tension and lighten the pressure he felt squeezing at his temples. It was pointless, and he blinked back at the tears that were threatening his right eye. It was another migraine. It was going on hours now, but he was at the end of this day. Almost. He had some personal darning to do, having to keep his own livery in tiptop shape after all. He yawned as he gathered it up in front of him and opened up his sewing kit. 

He blinked a few times, trying to focus on threading the needle. His eyes going a bit blurry but he took a breath. Tried to exhale the ache from his head but the pressure seemed to squeeze, and he found himself clenching his jaw. Which was no help at all, Thomas sighed and pulled at his tie and collar. Maybe if he just got rid of it, it would help him breathe easier and feel lighter. His head felt heavy, and he could almost see it rolling off. Briefly, he entertained the idea, it might lessen the pain. If he had no head, there would be no aching pressure to survive. 

“Let me?” Jimmy was behind him, Thomas could feel him, standing right behind his chair. He was bending down a little because his voice was soft and near Thomas’ ear. 

“What?”

Jimmy's hands appeared from behind him, around him, and he took the needle and thread. Thomas felt he heat of him on the back of his neck. He smelled Jimmy, cigarettes, polishing liquid and himself — Jimmy smelled Jimmy distinctly. Always bringing up images of bright days and summer winds. Thomas felt his eyes flutter closed and when he opened them, he watched Jimmy stab the thread through the eye of the needle. Then Jimmy’s hands were offering it back to Thomas.

“Thank you,” Thomas muttered feeling between embarrassed and annoyed. 

“I’d do the sewing, but you hate my sewing,” Jimmy said in the same soft tone as before. Thomas fought against closing his eyes again and inhaling, Jimmy was still impossibly close. But he snorted too because the truth was Jimmy’s stitches showed his impatience. 

“If you would simply slow down…”

“You’re one to talk,” Jimmy argued. “You should go to bed.”

“Have to do this…”

“It could keep.”

“Can’t…”

Jimmy huffed. It was a sound of frustration, but it was soft enough the hiss of it didn’t cause a reverberation of pain to roll through Thomas’ skull. “Have you taken anything?”

"For what?” Thomas asked and wondered immediately why he was playing dumb. 

“For the bloody migraine, we both know you have,” Jimmy chastised his voice barely rising. 

“Half and hour ago, no use taking more,” Thomas admitted, and he felt Jimmy nodding behind him. Which was impossible? Wasn’t it? He thought, but he knew the man standing behind was nodding in response. Thomas could feel the whole of him behind him, only a chair back between them. It felt oddly close, almost too close.

“Hmm…” Jimmy hummed softly and melodically.

“It won’t take much time,” Thomas said as he started on his darning. 

“Hmm…” Jimmy repeated, and suddenly his hands were on Thomas. Pressing on either side of his neck, thumbs pressing against the base of his neck. He jolted and stiffened.

“Relax…” was nearly whispered into his ear and Thomas laughed, almost manically. He took in a breath and tried to find words. But Jimmy was whispering at him to relax again and pressed with his hands. Adding a weight against his neck that seemed to lighten the weight of his head if not the pain of his headache. He tried to do the same thing with his own hand moments ago but given it up as it was impossible. But now, there was Jimmy with his hands — those bloody hands that drove Thomas distracted when they played the piano or were polishing a shoe. 

“Jimmy?” he breathed out not that he really knew what the question was…

“Relax,” Jimmy said again laughter laced with his voice. Thomas knew if it was anyone else he would stiffen and find offense in the amusement at his expense, but he knew Jimmy wasn’t judging him. What he didn’t know was what Jimmy was doing, or thinking…

He was touching him, rather intimately, in the servant’s hall. 

“Is it not helping?” Jimmy asked after a moment after Thomas failed to relaxed. 

“It’s…” Thomas stuttered and flushed. He focused. “It is, thanks,” he managed to get out, and he went about his darning. Unsure at all how long he could take such aid. 

“Good,” Jimmy hummed and pressed his thumbs into tight muscles. 

Thomas felt himself inexplicably relaxing as he went about his darning. It no longer felt like an impossible goal. He might finish it minutes sooner than he would’ve if Jimmy weren't behind him — almost holding him together, even as he threatened to make Thomas fall apart. He breathed in and out with every stitch, his neck becoming less and less stiff under the pressure of Jimmy’s hands…

He fought to try to keep his mind from wondering what Jimmy’s palms might feel like against other parts of his body and only somewhat succeeded. He licked his lips and forced himself to focus on the darning. It was nearly finished, only a few more stitches and it would be done.

Footsteps echoed on the wood and Thomas cringed at the noise of them. Jimmy's hands seemed to squeeze him tighter before suddenly his touch and body heat were gone. Thomas looked up in that same second and saw Anna walk into the room. 

“Hello,” she said politely and sat down in the chair across from Thomas.

He blinked at her and nodded. His neck felt warm and cold all at once, and he wasn’t even sure if Jimmy was still in the room. His lack of presence was a sudden chill. Thomas finished up the last stitch and then started to look behind him when a chair was scrapping against the wood and Jimmy was sitting down next to him.

Thomas glanced at him and noticed there was a high red color on his cheeks. He met Thomas’ glance though, slightly panicked blue eyes and Thomas wasn’t all sure he understood. Mostly because Jimmy was smiling at him, so maybe he wasn’t regretting what he'd done, what Anna almost seen…

Not that there had been anything to see…. Thomas told himself, it felt intimate but had it been? 

“Cigarette Mr. Barrow,” Jimmy asked, voice still low but managing to be all cheek just the same and punctuated with a wink.

Anna laughed. 

Thomas sighed at her laugh pierced through his head. 

“He has a migraine, Anna,” Jimmy spoke across the table.

“Oh,” Anna covered her mouth and then whispered. “I’m sorry, have you taken…”

“I have, thanks,” Thomas muttered feeling embarrassed at Anna knowing. He glared at Jimmy for it as he handed him a cigarette and went looking for his lighter.

Jimmy took the glare without an ounce of guilt and pulled Thomas’ lighter out of his pocket. “I think he should go to bed after his cigarette, don’t you, Anna?” 

“Jimmy,” Thomas shook his head. 

“Sleep probably helps more than a cigarette,” Anna agreed.

Thomas sighed and found himself allowing Jimmy to light his cigarette. He watched his lighter get pocketed again, and his lips twitched up into a slight smile. 

“I’ll get him to bed…” Jimmy said, and immediately he blushed. Thomas found himself smirking at Jimmy, surprised and amused at the innuendo. But he looked away his own cheeks blushing. It made him look at Anna, worriedly, but she was starting in on the sewing she’d brought to the table. No blush on her cheeks, missing the undercurrents that felt so tangible to Thomas.

And confusing. 

He inhaled on his cigarette and slowly fixed his gaze back on Jimmy. Jimmy was looking down at the table, but his cheeks were no longer red, though he was fiddling with his cigarette a bit. But there was nothing going on that shouldn’t be, Thomas thought…

He was daft to even think it for a second.


	18. The Moon

Jimmy had been griping to him for weeks about the cold. Impatiently whining for spring to start because he liked feeling his fingers when he smoked. Yet, Thomas was following him down the hallway and out the door just a few minutes shy of ten o’clock. A sharp wind hit his face the moment the door opened, and though he quite liked the cold himself, he wondered what they were doing step outside into it. He made it a few steps when Jimmy swore under his breath, a string of words that would’ve made Mrs. Patmore faint dead away. Then he was being handed a flask. He opened it and took a drink, cheap whiskey enflamed his throat and well at least a part of him was warm. Thomas continued following Jimmy but frowned when he didn’t head toward the alcove — where at the least they’d have some buffering from the wind. But he was heading toward the tree, the one they’d sit under sometimes when the weather was warm enough. 

“Is something wrong?” Thomas asked him.

“Bloody wind,” Jimmy muttered stopped under the tree, leaned against its trunk rather than sitting down at the base of it and craned his neck up toward the sky. Thomas followed his gaze and found himself staring at the moon. It was a bright white circle and splattered around it were a million pinpoints of stars, glittering over them. He felt himself sway toward the moon and smiled. The moon always made him want to slow his breath. He swayed forward a step, following the moon, the urge to pause. He felt his breath rise up and out of his chest and like a puff of smoke it appeared in front of his eyes. He stared at the moon and wished he knew its secret. 

A gust of wind sent a chill through him and reminded him of where he was, and he looked at Jimmy and felt a rush of heat to his face and belly. He looked serene, as he stared up at the moon. Calm. And it was and wasn’t Jimmy, Thomas thought because he was focused. Thomas swayed toward him, wanting to drink this in — Jimmy Kent entranced by the moon. He looked beautiful, and Thomas felt envy start to burn at the back of his throat. If only he could be the moon in Jimmy's eyes…

He yearned, and it made him stumble, his foot cracking a twig underneath it. Jimmy snapped his eyes toward Thomas and blinked a few times. Thomas flushed, feeling caught, he had been staring. But Jimmy grinned at him and swore loudly as another wind gust seemed to slice through them. He shook his head and took a swig of the whiskey and offered it to Thomas a second time. Thomas took it and looked around where they stood and back at his friend. 

“I thought I’d see if I could find it…” Jimmy said, and he was staring up at the sky again, but not at the moon. Thought a full moon might help and it’s a clear night…”

Thomas followed his gaze and thought the night sky really had nothing on a bewitched Jimmy Kent. He swallowed more whiskey and moved closer to Jimmy, leaning up against the tree as well. 

“I think…” Jimmy scowled. 

“What are you looking for?”

“Ursa Major,” he muttered. 

“What?”

“The constellation, Thomas…” he said and gave him a look. “Don’t you remember?” 

“Remember?”

“That night, you know, I was wondering about constellations that my mum taught me…”

Thomas shook his head even as the memories of that night swam up into focus. He remembered it. Being a bit drunk and sitting thigh to thigh with Jimmy on the ground. The press of their bodies and the soft breeze of a warmer night. He recalled with vivid clarity his inability to tear his eyes from Jimmy, not even for the stars. 

“We ended up making up our own constellations,” Jimmy prompted.

“Oh, right…” He pretended to remember and wondered if his smile ruined the lie. 

“You told me to learn them,” Jimmy’s voice was low. “To help feel closer to Mum.”

“Wanted to help…” he admitted. 

Jimmy nodded and turned his gaze back up to the sky. 

“Have you?”

“Doesn’t seem like it?” Jimmy laughed. “We are facing north, right?” 

“We are.”

“Well…” Jimmy sighed. “Stared at the bloody star chart until I saw stars…” 

Thomas laughed.

Jimmy's eyes were back on him, and he shook his head at him. “It’s not funny.”

“But you’re laughing.”

A snort sounded out of Jimmy’s nose, and they both laughed louder. Jimmy was looking up at the sky again, and Thomas watched his eyes dart and wished he knew what it was he seeking. They stood for a long time, Thomas watching Jimmy and Jimmy seeking out the right pattern of stars. 

“It’s… I can’t…I can’t see the maps in the sky,” Jimmy’s voice cracked, and his smile became pressed lips and his eyes squeezing shut. “…letting her down.”

Thomas felt something clang inside of him as he saw a tear fall from Jimmy’s eye and he shouted, “No.” 

Jimmy looked at him tears making his blue eyes shine and pain making them squeeze close a second time. He made a shuddering noise, and the back of his head hit the trunk of the tree. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and another tear rolled down his cheek and onto his chin. Thomas looked for words, something he could say that wouldn’t die an empty death on the air if spoken. He wanted to keep shouting no. Argue away Jimmy’s pain, but he knew it wasn’t a fight he could win. 

He stared at him. At his eyes squeezed tight and his trembling jaw. Watched him fighting the tears and losing. Because they broke free and Thomas counted three more tears roll down Jimmy’s skin. He should pull him inside, out of the cold, but he feared the others might be around still, loitering in the servant’s hall. Thomas needed to protect him, his heart was in his throat, and he swallowed and flailed for an answer, and his hand flew up and took Jimmy’s hand into it. 

Jimmy jolted at the touch, and Thomas froze, surprised by himself and afraid of the reaction. But then Jimmy tightened his hold, and his entire body fell, it fell to the side and right into Thomas’ body. He was turned just enough, Jimmy’s shoulder was leaning onto Thomas'. He swallowed and squeezed his hand, remaining quiet and almost all of Jimmy’s weight slipped onto him, and his aborted sobs became real. 

Thomas let Jimmy cry, and let time tick on until he was sure it was safe for them to make their way inside. He pulled Jimmy, wet-faced but silent to his feet and slowly led him up the stairs. 

It was at Jimmy's door that their hands fell free.


	19. A Walk

Thomas blinked at Jimmy Kent. He stood in front of him, he was smiling, and he was talking. Walking backward down the path with no worry about where he was heading, his hips twisting in a graceful swish with each step. His arms were moving, forward, toward Thomas and seemed to match the motion of Jimmy’s mouth. Thomas eyes flew from his hips to his mouth, to his hands, and back to the start. He blinked again and thought there was some sort of silverish glow around Jimmy, and he was thinking about the moon. About the other night, when they stood under the stars and the moon and Jimmy been missing his mother. He cried then, and Thomas moved forward, eyes flying from Jimmy’s hands back to his face, to his mouth. It wasn’t hanging in sadness, though, it was smiling, bright and it was moving. He was talking Thomas realized, and he shook his head at him. 

“Are you listening to me at all?” Jimmy laughed. 

“No,” Thomas whispered, he didn’t dare speak too loud. What if Jimmy was a mirage? 

“You’re drunk,” it was laughed, and Jimmy stepped closer to him. 

“Right…” Thomas nodded. He was, he remembered now, Jimmy been playing the piano at the pub, showing off for the crowd and Thomas watched him from where he sat and drank pint after pint. “You were playing the piano.”

“I was… and didn’t have to pay for any of our pints. Good thing too.”

“You should be given money.” 

“For what? Playing a tune or two?”

Thomas nodded seriously. 

Jimmy shook his head and looked away from Thomas. But Thomas was staring again, and he saw how his eyes fell onto the dirt of the ground. “Jimmy you’re quite good, very talented…”

“Shut up.” He was looking at Thomas again with a strange look on his face. “I play for fun, for a laugh… and anyway, you’re biased and too drunk to judge a thing.”

“What does that have to do with a thing?” Thomas asked. 

“Which point.” Jimmy looked amused.

“Sober as Carson I would know you’re brilliant.”

“Ah, but you’d remain biased, Thomas Barrow.” 

“For you, always.”

Jimmy looked away again but only for a moment, a second and then he was looking back at Thomas and smirked. “Do you recall how to walk, yet?”

Thomas scoffed and closed the few steps between them. He was standing nearly chest to chest with Jimmy. He grinned as he looked at Jimmy’s chest, the fabric of his shirt stretched across of it, his jacket tightly fitted around it and his loosened tie. Jimmy’s ties were always loosened the moment he could get away with out one. Thomas reached out and touched the loosened knot of the tie, pulled it free completely and fiddled with the fabric. It was scratchy against his fingers, and it made him frown. “You should have silk.” 

“On a footman’s salary, sure, Thomas…”

“I’ll buy you one.”

“With what money?”

“I save up…” Thomas muttered. 

“I don’t need some fancy tie I’d be scared of ripping or staining…” Jimmy laughed and started walking backward again. He grinned at Thomas. “Come on, it’s late, and I for one don’t want us getting caught out…”

Thomas frowned and fished for his pocket watch. He stared at it and blinked a few times, but the face of it continued to be fuzzy. He looked up, and Jimmy’s face was there. He was smiling widely, the edges of his eyes were all crinkled up, and Thomas let felt relief he wasn’t all fuzzy too. 

“What time is it then, clockmaker?”

“I can’t tell,” Thomas laughed. 

“Come on…” Jimmy stepped backward all confidence and grace. Thomas tried to drink him in, all of him, all at once. Jimmy stopped moving, and Thomas whined because he liked watching him in motion. 

“Why’re you stopping?” he accused.

“Because you aren’t starting.”

“I’m not.”

Jimmy threw up his hands, and before Thomas knew what happened, Jimmy was at his side, arm slung around his waist. He smelled like cologne, something spicy that seemed to meld in with Jimmy’s natural heat, his warmth and all of that was spilling over onto Thomas. He shivered at it, or at the touch or just at Jimmy. He looked at him and stared. 

“Walk, will ya?” Jimmy was laughing. 

“Oh,” Thomas breathed out, and he started walking. Jimmy’s amusement was in his ear, along with his breath. “I guess I should…” 

“If we don’t make a hurry of it, we won’t be back before sunrise.” 

Thomas laughed.

“You laugh but I see it happening if you keep standing still.”

“I’m walking…” Thomas looked down and saw his feet moving. He saw Jimmy’s too, right next to his own. Side by side and it took his breath away, and he felt him — Jimmy’s arm around his waist. Holding him. He swallowed and glanced at the man beside him. 

“Finally,” Jimmy scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“I’m drunk…” Thomas muttered.

“And as amusing as it is, you’re rather slow though aren’t you?”

“What’s the hurry?”

“I want some sleep before the hall boy’s waking me up.”

“It’s late?”

“Pub’s closed…” 

“You were brilliant.” 

“Was just a few show tunes.”

“Wanted to dance…” Thomas thought. 

“Did you?” Jimmy stopped walking, Thomas stumbled but the arm slung around his waist kept him straight. “You dance, Mr. Barrow?”

“Of course I dance,” Thomas rolled his eyes. 

Jimmy stared at him, he was already smiling — never stopped Thomas thought, and it suited him. Jimmy should always be smiling. 

“Stop…” Jimmy glanced away from him again. “It’s just a bloody smile.” 

“No…” Thomas argued. 

“You dance?”

“I dance.”

“We need to go London… you and me, a dance hall — hell, maybe we can get to the one in Ripon? Really let loose, I can get as drunk as you are right now… the both us bladdered and free. If only for one night.” 

“I’d dance with you.”

Jimmy met his eyes then, the ever-present smile and it was in his eyes too and on his cheeks. Thomas thought maybe his cheeks were redder than usual and he wondered if it was cold. It wasn’t quite spring yet, and it was late, but his blood felt riled up from the drink and from Jimmy. Jimmy so close, all musky body heat and his arm around Thomas. 

“That we’d have to do alone…” Jimmy's voice was odd and deep in a way Thomas never heard before, and it made him spin. Something about it made him stutter. 

“Huh?” his breath hitched, and he blinked at him and thought for a second Jimmy flickered away into nothing. His heart rate sped up at the thought. Of Jimmy flickering away. “Don’t go away,” he called out and reached up and grabbed at Jimmy’s arm. 

“Go…” Jimmy blinked at him, bit his lower lip and laughed. “Just how bloody drunk are you? Oi, and I’ve slowed us down now. Let’s get walking, maybe it’ll sober you up…” his arm was slung tighter around Thomas' waist, and he nudged into him. “Stay awake huh?”

Thomas blinked, his eyes felt heavy, but he wasn’t tired. He couldn’t be his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. Jimmy was far too close, something inside of him was muttering at him to push him away. That he must push Jimmy away and put space between them and remember. Remember all the things he was forgetting right now…. that would be best. 

Instead he inhaled deeply, Jimmy spicy cologne and the natural sun of him flooded Thomas senses, and he leaned into his hold. He heard Jimmy make some sort of sound that wasn’t a laugh, but it wasn’t anything bad either. He glanced at him and caught deep blue eyes staring right at him. Jimmy met his eyes and nodded, briefly, it was a split second, and then he was looking ahead of them. 

Everything went silent, to match the night sky, and Thomas wondered how the world all around them was indistinct fog, but Jimmy beside him was vivid and bright. His hair in his eyes, the loose tie, the heat of him and the smell of him. The sound of his laughter, because it bubbled out of his chest every time Thomas stumbled…

And he did it again, one last time in front of his door. Jimmy’s hands on his waist, it was a low chuckle in Thomas’ ear, and he watched his door open. “Thomas… get some sleep.”

“Not tired.”

“You are,” Jimmy grinned and his hand landed on Thomas’ chest. 

“I don’t want to stop looking at you, not yet.”

Jimmy glanced away, and he licked his lips. When he looked back at Thomas, he was smiling but shaking his head. “You’re going to be mad you said that…”

“No.”

“Yeah… you are,” Jimmy sighed. 

“You’re so bloody beautiful…” Thomas whispered, and his hand reached up, and he touched Jimmy’s cheek. It was hot under his palm, and he pressed against it, wanting to feel the bone of his cheek. Jimmy's eyes fell closed, and Thomas breathed in sharply. 

“Thomas…” Jimmy sighed, his eyes opening and they were a deep blue, darker than Thomas ever seen them. “Go…” he pressed his hand against Thomas' chest slightly. It made him step backward, through the door and his hand slowly fell off Jimmy’s face, his arm swung in the space between them. Thomas stepped back again and into the room and looked around it. Blinking and wondering…

“What next?”

Jimmy chuckled again and stepped into the room. He stepped up to him, fingers deftly untying his tie and then pushing off his suit jacket. Then he put the jacket on the back of a chair and the tie on top of the table. He turned toward Thomas and shook his head. “Sit down…” he pointed at the bed.

Thomas sat down, and Jimmy walked up to him and stared down at him. “You’re so far gone, you didn’t drink that much, did you?”

“Maybe it’s you,” Thomas whispered because he was sure of it being true. He could get drunk off Jimmy Kent. 

Jimmy rolled his eyes and bent down in front of Thomas. Thomas felt his whole stomach swoop down with him, desire pooling in places and he grabbed the bedsheets he was sitting on with his hands -- fighting the urge to touch. Jimmy looked right at him with wide eyes, and Thomas’ skin grew instantly heated. He wasn’t meant to react the way he was, but there was no helping it, and inside of his chest his heart rebelled at the thought of reacting in any other way. 

Especially with Jimmy staring at him with his dark blue eyes wide open. But then he glanced away from Thomas. And first, his tongue and then his teeth went over his bottom lip. Jimmy took a breath and pulled Thomas’ feet free of his shoes and stood up in one swoop. 

Thomas looked up the length of him, sitting down, Jimmy for once looming above him. It looked like Jimmy was swaying where he stood, his eyes dark and his hands on his sides — oddly still, like Jimmy was afraid to use them. 

“Goodnight, Thomas…”

“I love you,” Thomas thought he thought. 

Jimmy paused at the door with a strange smile on his face. 

Thomas smiled in return, and he blinked. 

The door clicked closed.


	20. Presents

Thomas was reading the Daily Mirror, his feet planted in front of him as he sat in the rocking chair. The fire next to him which felt nice because the air was damp as it was raining hard enough outside you could almost feel it as it pounded against the windows. It was quiet for the moment, one of the lulls of the day and Thomas felt lucky to be able to sit for it. The past few days it felt he missed it, always standing on his feet, being kept busy by Carson…as if he was being punished for something he done. Or simply for existing. He frowned at the thought and straightened the paper out and focused his attention back on the article he was reading. 

But his attention was quickly pulled away from it by Jimmy walking into the room with Alfred at his heels. Thomas peered at them over the top of the paper. Jimmy looked tired, drawn and a bit pale. Thomas worried the inside of his cheek and wondered if he was having trouble sleeping again? It was something they both fought, insomnia, though they never discussed it. But the past week Jimmy had gotten in the habit of keeping Thomas talking later and later into the night. It’d been quite a bit past 2 when Thomas stumbled into his room last night, he remembered that now… 

Might explain himself feel a bit more churlish than usual, but he kept worrying his cheek and wondering if Jimmy was all right. He and Alfred were talking, and Thomas reluctantly decided to listen to the conversation to see what it was about. He instantly tuned back out when it turned out Alfred was going on and on about hollandaise sauces. Thomas rolled his eyes and glanced at the time before his eyes fell back onto Jimmy’s profile. He was sitting now, fiddling with a deck of cards, with an expression on his face that told Thomas he was trying not to roll his eyes at Alfred. 

The thing was he wanted to get Jimmy alone — well that was a daily thing, really, but it was an important today. Today was important, and his fingers itched a bit as indecision made him shift in his seat. He wasn’t at all sure about something he’d done. He stared at Jimmy’s profile and noted his boredom with Alfred and probably the day. He wasn’t even at all sure if Jimmy cared about what made this day special…if he wasn’t sleeping, was something about it bothering him? 

“Happy Birthday, Jimmy…” Ivy chirped as she walked into the room with biscuits on a plate. “Here,” she dropped the plate in front of him and gave him a smile that made her cheeks seem rounder and Thomas realized she was blushing. Her eyes focused on Jimmy, her interest loud and her whole face lit up with hope. 

“Uh…” Jimmy looked at the plate and back at her face. He shifted in his seat and then he turned his head and looked at Thomas. It was too quick for Thomas to try to hide from him. He’d lowered the paper too far to hide behind it. And he wasn’t at all sure why he felt the want to hide from Jimmy anyway. Maybe it was because he yet to decide if he would give Jimmy birthday wishes or his birthday present. He wanted too, he realized and felt a stab of guilt at it because Jimmy seemed to want nothing to do with Ivy. 

Their eyes met, and Jimmy’s entire countenance screamed irritation with Ivy. Thomas nodded, agreeing with him that Ivy was annoying, but he wondered if that was the reaction Jimmy was seeking. Jimmy flicked his eyes back and forth between them a few times. 

“I bought you something,” Ivy announced not picking up at all Jimmy’s lack of interest. 

“What? Why?” Jimmy stammered, turning his attention toward her. 

“It’s your birthday,” Ivy answered with a smile and looking at Jimmy as if he was a bit daft to ask. Thomas thought about what he'd done, about his own present…. His uncertainty grew as he thought of it and the many reasons he shouldn’t have bought it and wondered again if he would give it to him?

“Ivy…”

“It’s nothing special…” she muttered, and Thomas realized she was worried. Was it about him not liking it? Was it because she felt she might be crossing a line? No, it was probably simply fear Jimmy wouldn’t like it? 

“Fine, give it then?” Jimmy muttered. 

She pulled a tiny box out of her apron pocket. “It’s really cheap, I don’t really have much money and all…” she stammered.

Jimmy opened the box and his face twisted up oddly. Thomas searched it, trying to get a read on what he was feeling all the while fighting his own curiosity about the present. Jimmy seemed unhappy with it, but he pulled it from the box. 

Thomas felt fury at the sight of it. 

“It’s a lighter?” Jimmy said to Ivy his voice devoid of emotion.

Bitter anger rolled through Thomas and fought the urge to lunge forward, grab the lighter and toss it in the fire. How dare she give him that? How dare she try to take something from him? Thomas wanted to yell at her to take her bloody lighter and choke on it. It was bad enough she was allowed to walk around and flirt with Jimmy. It hurt enough she could try to press her interest onto him in the hopes Jimmy would finally return it. It was bad enough Ivy was allowed to have a crush on him, and everyone felt compassion for her it was unrequited. 

Thomas was expected to live with it. Thomas was expected to feel wrong for his feelings for Jimmy. But hers, her feelings, it was nurtured as they gave her understanding. Not pity. 

He glared at her lighter and thought about the first time Jimmy stole his, and he felt his insides clench with pain. 

“Uh… don’t really need one,” Jimmy said.

That made Thomas move back out of himself, and his eyes fell on Jimmy. He looked pained as he stared at Ivy, his fingers around the lighter like it was something gross to touch. 

“Of course you do,” Ivy laughed. “You can stop stealing Mr. Barrow's. I know it’s not as nice as his, but they told me it’s reliable.”

“Right,” Jimmy said flatly, but he was looking at Thomas. 

Thomas flinched as their eyes met, knowing his anger couldn’t be hidden. He was angry at Ivy’s present, at Ivy’s presence. But Jimmy’s look was softer than he expected and he swallowed over a lump in his throat as he wondered if Jimmy looked guilty? 

“Thanks, Ivy…” Jimmy looked back at her and dropped the lighter in the box, closed it up and pushed it away from him into the center of the table. His gaze flicking back over to Thomas. Thomas wanted to unclench his jaw, wanted to soften his gaze but he couldn’t… 

“Happy Birthday.” Ivy leaned down and kissed his cheek. 

Another rush of envy forced Thomas to look away and realized he was crumbling the newspaper in his hands as it ripped. His hands were fists, and he felt like punching something, not Ivy, no he’d never do that but maybe a wall, maybe his own face in a mirror. All because he wasn’t allowed these things and he felt trampled on. The lighter was a slap across his face. It was theirs. His lighter. She was taking something away from Thomas, with that present, she was ripping Jimmy away from him. 

“Yeah, Happy Birthday,” Alfred said, his voice strangled, and it made Thomas look up. Alfred wasn’t even looking at Jimmy, he was looking at the path Ivy had taken back to the kitchen. He was angry too, about that kiss, about Ivy’s crush on Jimmy and her lack of interest in him…

But Thomas seethed, again, because Alfred got understanding for his problems and he got nothing. Nothing at all. He sighed and tried to focus back on the paper, but something made him look back up. And he found Jimmy staring at him. He looked angry and insecure but more than that, Jimmy’s face was twisted up into something Thomas didn’t recognize. It made him try to soften his expression, lessen his frustration and his hurt over the gift. It wasn’t Jimmy’s fault, nothing was, and it was his birthday. But Jimmy started to shake his head, back and forth, his eyes flicking to where he pushed lighter. Thomas found himself glaring at it for a moment before he met Jimmy’s eyes again. And he kept shaking his head, and Thomas hoped it meant he hated it too, but he was afraid to believe it.

“Want to…” Jimmy started to ask when Carson appeared. 

“Mr. Barrow, Lord Grantham needs us both upstairs…”

“Of course, Mr. Carson,” he muttered and forced his eyes away from Jimmy. 

“Later…” he heard as he stepped out of the room and he looked back and nodded. Jimmy’s entire being seemed to melt into relief, and Thomas felt a slight smile tug at his lips. 

~~~

Thomas was happy to find it was no longer pouring as he stepped out of the house. It was late, but Jimmy was nowhere to be found, and Thomas hadn’t had a cigarette since early morning. He fished out a cigarette but paused as he saw it in between his fingers. He tried to swallow the bitter taste that formed in his mouth, he was angry about Ivy and that bloody lighter she handed Jimmy. All happy with herself for giving him something he needed. 

Maybe it was correct, Thomas thought, maybe they all thought it stupid Jimmy was always borrowing his lighter. Maybe they thought Thomas hated him stealing it. He did grumble about quite a bit at times when he really needed a smoke and Jimmy been nowhere around. He’d have to ask for someone else to help him light up his cigarette and that did annoy him. Quite a bit, but…

Not enough to tell Jimmy to stop. He never thought too much on the habit, the theft, that the lighter if it wasn’t in his pockets was in Jimmy’s. It made him happy and he never quite let himself dwell on it — but someone threatened to take it away, and Thomas realized how much he relied on it being something between him and Jimmy.

“Gonna need this…” a voice broke Thomas was his thoughts and he realized Jimmy was in front of him. Standing enough that Thomas felt his body heat and smelled the layer of sweat of Jimmy’s work day on him… But he inhaled because Jimmy smelled like summer and sweaty it was like a summer storm. It beat the damp and the dirt that been in his nose. 

Also, there was the lighter. In Jimmy’s hands. All silver and worn. And Thomas’. The flame flickering in the drizzle that was misting around them. Thomas sighed, and it was longer and louder than he meant it to be, and he felt himself blush. But he lit the cigarette, smiled and met Jimmy’s eyes. 

He saw what he wanted in them. Apology, guilt, the flicker of mischief that said he would never stop stealing Thomas’ lighter. He watched Jimmy’s shoulders relax at his reaction and then Jimmy was stealing a cigarette from Thomas’ pocket, lighting it and sliding Thomas’ lighter back into his pocket, where it'd been for the bulk of the…. Week, he realized. 

Jimmy yawned as he turned to lean against the wall, his shoulder pressing against Thomas. He sighed into the cigarette, inhaling the smoke and then exhaling it with relief. “Been craving this all bloody day.”

“Long day…” Thomas said.

“Yeah, on no sleep…” Jimmy mumbled.

Thomas worried the inside of his cheek. Getting an answer to that question did nothing to make him worry less. “Any reason?”

“Usual ones, I guess…Didn’t mean to mention it,” he chuckled.

“Thinking and talking gets blurred when tired.”

“Or drunk…” Jimmy gave him a strange glance.

“What?”

Jimmy grinned at him.

Thomas stood straighter, mind trying to remember the last time the two of them had been drinking. Fear coursing through him, his imagination telling him there were many things he may have thought he wouldn't have wanted to slip off his tongue.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, it wasn’t bad…” Jimmy trailed off but his mouth remained turned up in a smirk. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Smart that… I’m full of it, you know,” Jimmy winked at him.

Thomas relaxed and thought if he said anything that gone too far, he would’ve known immediately, wouldn’t he? Jimmy wouldn’t be standing so close, Jimmy wouldn’t be teasing him about it? Would he? 

“Really wanted to get through the day with no one mentioning it,” Jimmy interrupted his worries. 

“I was wondering…”

“I’ve told her, you know, that nothings going to happen. I told her she’d be better off with Alfred.” 

“You did?”

“Yeah… when I gave her back that stupid gift.” 

Thomas’ slowly pulled his cigarette away from his mouth. 

“I couldn’t take it, might’ve been cheap but…pricey for her, you know? And I’m not… She’s not for me.” 

“No?” Thomas asked. “Because I might not… But I mean, she’s pretty.”

“That’s not enough,” Jimmy laughed. 

“Is if you don’t care about settling down. Which you don’t.”

Jimmy snorted. “But, Ivy, she’s the type who wants that… she’s picturing babies and such.” 

Thomas cringed. 

“Exactly,” Jimmy sighed. 

“Well…” Thomas studied him. “It’s almost midnight, I’d wager.”

“Or past.”

“But… Happy Birthday.”

Jimmy grinned at him, his eyes falling on Thomas’ face. He returned the grin but started to feel it falter as Jimmy kept staring at him. Then slowly Jimmy's eyes went up and the length of him. Doing things to Thomas’ heart and his body. He shifted under the stare, and when Jimmy made it back to his face, their eyes met. 

“What?” Thomas asked.

Jimmy blushed, they stood close enough Thomas couldn’t miss it. “I just… thought… never mind.” 

“What?”

“That you had present or something…” Jimmy laughed. “That was daft, why did I even say that…” 

“Oh.” Thomas felt his mouth go dry and he thought of his present. “I, uh…do.”

“What?” 

“I do but…”

“What?”

“It’s upstairs.”

“Oh…” Jimmy's eyes went up and down Thomas’ length again, and Thomas swallowed a whimper wishing Jimmy meant it differently. “That mean it’s too big to carry?”

“What? No,” Thomas laughed. “I could’ve had it on me, but not gonna give it to you with a crowd about.”

“Are you going to give it to me?”

Thomas sighed and looked away. Uncertainty nagging at him. “I…”

“What?”

“You might not want it.”

“I’m sure I do.”

“You don’t know what it is.”

“From you innit?” 

Thomas lost his breath. 

Jimmy's cheeks reddened again, and he looked down at his feet. “Let me decide, huh?”

“Yeah…that seems fair.” Thomas decided with a nod. “Upstairs then…”

They walked quickly and quietly. Thomas hadn't known his heart could reach the speed it was pounding at in his ears. But he opened his door and walked across the room to his bookcase. He had it there, on the top, the present. He hadn’t wrapped it or anything, going back and forth as often as he had been about giving it to Jimmy. He took a breath and picked it up, turned and nearly hit Jimmy in the chest with it, he was standing so close… Thomas couldn’t stop himself from inhaling him again. If he was going to be so close… It was Jimmy’s fault really, Thomas decided. He held out the present. 

Jimmy took it in his hands. Thomas held his breath. 

“It’s a book?”

“Not quite…”

Jimmy opened it, the empty line pages whirring as he thumbed through it quickly and he looked up at Thomas. His blue eyes were bright and wide. “It’s empty.”

“It’s a journal,” Thomas said. 

Jimmy continued flipping through it, and then he closed it. It thumped, and Thomas watched Jimmy’s thumb press into the cover of it. “This is leather…”

“Yeah…”

Jimmy's eyes fell to the black letters that Thomas sewed into the cover himself. The J.K. bold on the front, denoting ownership… “You did..”

“Thought it should be clear who owns it.” 

“Right….” Jimmy hummed. It struck Thomas how different it sounded now than it had downstairs with Ivy. The right she’d gotten been flat and almost angry, and this was… Jimmy stared at him, and his eyes still bright blue and wide. “Why?” he asked and Thomas could see him thinking, see him wondering and trying to piece together why this was his present. 

“Why not?” he lied. 

Jimmy's eyes fell to the bookcase behind Thomas. 

Thomas thought about the loose pieces of paper, he found in borrowed tomes and the writings scribbled on them, some of the words crossed out. He held Jimmy’s stare when it returned from the books. Jimmy was blushing, again, but it was a deep red flush, and his eyes darted away. He looked shy, and that was new. Thomas felt himself smile. 

“Pricey this…” Jimmy murmured. 

“Wasn’t anything I couldn’t afford…” Thomas' eyes slid away, and he braced for disappointment.

“Thank you…” Jimmy whispered.

“I under…what?” Thomas looked at him again, confused, he'd been sure he was about to be handed the journal back. 

“I love it.” Jimmy grinned, and his face was red. 

“Oh…” Thomas grinned.

Jimmy seemed to squeeze the book, and he looked behind Thomas at the bookcase again, and Thomas tried not to look too knowing. Jimmy nodded his head and turned. “Goodnight, Thomas.”

“Happy Birthday, Jimmy.”

Jimmy stopped at the door and paused. Thomas watched him, thinking he was maybe going to say something else. What that could be was what had Thomas confused, there wasn’t much left to say. Not much left that either of them would dare say out loud. There was that long beat of wonder, and then Jimmy closed Thomas’ door instead of pushing it open to leave. 

“Jimmy?” 

“Shut up…” Jimmy said as he turned. 

Thomas’ mouth stayed open, curiosity on his tongue.  
Jimmy was back in front of him in that second. 

Thomas stared at him confused.

Jimmy winced and shook his head. “Close your eyes…. Please.” 

His eyes slid closed immediately. 

“Keep them closed, Thomas.”

“I will…”

“Don’t talk,” Jimmy snapped.

Thomas sighed. He fought against opening his eyes and nodded that he would stay silent. 

Jimmy inhaled a breath and when he exhaled Thomas felt his breath on lips. Jimmy was close, too close, he could feel his body heat — he only stood this close when they were outside, side by side, smoking. Not chest to chest, in Thomas’ room, with the door closed and Jimmy ordering his eyes shut. Thomas swallowed and worried the fabric of his pants between his fingers and tried not to sway toward Jimmy. Not to sway toward his heat, toward his chest, toward that breath, toward his mouth…

Jimmy’s chest touched Thomas' chest, and he nearly opened his eyes. “Thank you, Thomas…” his voice was in his ear, it vibrated down Thomas’ spine. “I don’t…you don’t know…” Jimmy’s voice fell into a sad but happy laugh. Thomas felt breath against his ear and then his cheek. He shivered, it was hot though, against his skin, it felt like it could burn him. But he was wrong because then his skin was burned, branded…

Jimmy Kent pressed his lips against his cheek, a long press of his mouth that Thomas felt against not only his skin but his cheekbone. He stopped breathing and expected Jimmy to fly back, to step away, to leave the room. But his mouth lingered where it was, and there was a murmur. But if it was a word, Thomas couldn’t make sense of it. He couldn’t make sense of the moment at all… 

Jimmy slowly leaned away, Thomas felt it. His mouth lifted off of Thomas’ skin, but their bodies were close, Jimmy was close enough that if Thomas swayed forward how he was yearning too, their chests would touch. He felt Jimmy’s hand land on his chest. There was pressure but not a push. 

“Not..” Jimmy whimpered and huffed out a sigh.

“Jimmy…” Thomas couldn’t stop the plea. 

But his answer was footsteps and the opening and closing of his door. His eyes opened, and he stared at the spot in front of him, seeing an echo of Jimmy still before him and touched his cheek and felt confusion like never before.


	21. Deeper

“Burning the midnight oil,” Thomas said, eyebrows raised as soon as Jimmy managed to shut his mouth after a yawn.

“Amuses you does it? Me yawning…” Jimmy laughed.

“Worried is all, not enough sleep you mess up on the job.”

“I’m brilliant at me job… a wink and smile, save me every time.”

“Maybe with her Ladyship and Lady Edith. Not Carson and Mrs. Hughes.”

“Works on you, though, don’t it.” Jimmy winked. 

Thomas laughed and shook his head. “Cheeky… don’t push it.” 

“Just been staying a bit later than I should…. It’s not lack of sleep or anything. Sleeping fine once me head hits the pillow.”

“Then why are you hitting your pillow so late then?”

“Well, half your fault innit… keeping me up chatting past midnight.”

“Oi, that’s you… Never shut up once you get started.”

“Me?” Jimmy laughed. “You’re a chatterbox and a gossip, Mr. Barrow. Worse than the maids, all that wondering and supposing about Lady Edith’s love life.”

“She’s sleeping with that editor… married editor at that and you don’t think that merits some discussion?”

“Of course it does… who knew she had it in her. Thought Lady Mary and Lady Rose were the daring ones…” 

“Oh, Lady Edith always had a dark side to her.”

“Suppose one would need it to survive her sister.”

“Ah, yes…” Thomas laughed. “You changed the subject.” 

“Did I?” Jimmy grinned at him. It was all teeth and dimples and crinkles around his eyes. Thomas lost his breath for a moment, and he bent his head down, busied himself with lighting a new cigarette. 

“You know you did… what’s keeping you from getting into your bed at a decent hour?”

“Why would I want to sleep a decent hour anyway, Mr. Barrow?” 

“No, no, no twisting your way out of the question.”

“Decency is highly overrated, I’d say… It’s boring.”

“It may well be, but it keeps you from yawning in the dining room.”

“I have not…” 

“Yet.”

“I won’t, not again — know better than do that twice.” 

“Then you should be getting a decent nights rest.”

“Pfft…” Jimmy shook his head and held out his hand.

Thomas noted his outstretched palm and quirk his lips up. “What?”

“Come on, gimme…”

“Maybe I should stop sharing.”

“You’d never,” Jimmy laughed. 

“I might.”

“Well, good luck, lighting up.”

Thomas stared at him. “I literally just did…”

“I could be a pickpocket,” Jimmy grinned wickedly and held up his left hand, Thomas’ lighter glinting on his the palm.

“How did…” Thomas held his cigarette between his lips and patted down his pockets, needlessly, he could see his lighter plain as day on Jimmy’s palm. 

Jimmy kept up his wicked grin and tilted his head. “Should I use my talents to get a cigarette, or you going cave?”

“Go on then,” Thomas challenged. 

Jimmy sighed, and he stepped away from the wall and in front of Thomas. His right hand dipping into Thomas’ pocket and pulling out the package of cigarettes. 

“I think you’re failing on me not noticing this…”

“No way I could win that challenge with you on your guard and we’ve only got about ten minutes left to breathe free before Carson sends one of those his idiots out here to fetch up.” 

“Idiots?”

“It’s a toss up really, which on is Idiot One or Idiot Two…”

“I suppose it is…” 

“He’s going to take that bloody test.”

“What?”

“Alfred. That chef test at the Ritz… what a stupid name.”

“Are you jealous?”

Jimmy lit his cigarette and shook his head. “Of course not, don’t want to bloody play with food.”

“That wasn’t what I meant…”

Jimmy met his gaze and sighed. 

“So… you are?”

“No…” Jimmy muttered and moved back against the wall. 

“He’d get out of here, out of Downton. Be living it up in London.”

“It’d be him though, wouldn’t it… he’d be in bed by eight every night, reading recipes for mayonnaise. Right dull and decent life.” 

“Ah, decent…” Thomas gazed at Jimmy’s profile. “Back to that are we? What’s making you stay up so late?”

Jimmy glanced at him and smiled. “You.”

“What?” Thomas blinked.

“You got me that bloody journal, didn’t you?” Jimmy chuckled.

“That’s keeping you up?”

“Maybe,” Jimmy shook his head. “It’s starting up, isn’t it?”

“Is what?”

“Spring.”

Thomas followed Jimmy’s gaze towards the trees at the edge of the courtyard. The beginnings of buds were on the higher branches, and the sun was high over the horizon now when last week it’d been getting dark. “It’s starting to come, I suppose… temperature's been a bit warmer.”

“Yeah… It’s making me restless, it is, the beginning of spring.” 

“Why’s that?”

“Why not, right?” Jimmy glanced at him. “You…”

“Me?”

Jimmy stared at him, and Thomas tried to hold his gaze but he felt his cheeks heating up, and he didn’t dare look much longer. His eyes might dip to his mouth, and he wouldn’t be able to hide it. He looked away and focused on his cigarette, smoking it down to its end. 

“New smoke?” Jimmy asked, and when Thomas looked over, he was holding up his pack of cigarettes. 

Thomas narrowed his eyes and laughed. “You were just distracting me…”

“Maybe,” Jimmy smirked. 

Thomas shook his head and went to take back the pack. Jimmy held it away from him, making Thomas lunge and they both laughed as they danced this way and that before Thomas grabbed hold of it. Their fingers grazed, and Thomas pretended the contact didn’t send fire up his arm. He pulled one out, but then sighed… 

“Oh, you have time for one more,” Jimmy said.

Thomas put it between his lips and went in search of his lighter.

“You think I gave it back?” 

“I think you’ve turned my head all around…”

Jimmy winked at him as he swung around to face Thomas. He reached up with the lighter and lit the cigarette between Thomas’ lips. “Been writing…” he said, his voice suddenly low. 

Snippets of words and torn pieces of paper filled Thomas mind. “Have you?”

“A bit…” Jimmy swallowed. 

“Why?” 

“You….” Something flickered behind Jimmy’s eyes, and they darted to the left, breaking contact with Thomas. 

Thomas sucked in a breath, smoke filling his lungs and he pressed himself more against the wall behind him and fought against an instinct to grab Jimmy’s chin and make him look in the eye. 

“Bought me a bloody journal… what else should I do with it,” Jimmy’s voice was strangled, and then he was chuckling. 

“Thought you might like it… if you don’t…”

“What?”

“If don’t like it…” Thomas hedged feeling confused. 

“I love it,” Jimmy whispered and staring at him. “I’m just… not sure why?”

“Why?”

“Did you buy me one?”

Pages and pages of words and strings of thought… Borrowed poems and short stories. More and more as their friendship wore on and on. “It was an impulse,” Thomas said because it been an impulse, the thought never formed fully until he saw the journal on a shelf in a stationery store in York. It been an impulse, to buy it, to give it. “Thought you might like it.”

“It’s a gift for a clever person.”

“I suppose it is, yes,” Thomas shook his head more confused. 

“It’s a gift for someone who might have something to say.”

“I suppose…” 

“What could I have to say?” Jimmy asked him. 

“Plenty, I wager.”

“Like what?” Jimmy asked him. 

“Things upended, silhouettes….” Thomas breathed out without meaning to, he felt entranced with Jimmy before him, his voice low and the expressions behind his blue eyes strange. 

“Fuck…” Jimmy's eyes widened, and his cheeks flamed red. 

“I didn’t mean to…” Thomas stammered. 

Jimmy’s eyes closed but he laughed, unexpectedly loud and nervous. The sound of it seemed to make him step backward. Thomas sighed at the space between them that it created. 

“Jimmy…”

“Shhh…” he interrupted Thomas, and his eyes opened. 

Thomas inhaled in relief that his eyes showed no anger. 

“I knew you would’ve if you saw them… I mean, of course, you would’ve read them if you saw them…” Jimmy laughed again, and his face continued to flame. “Just it’s…”

“Whatever it was for, the words were…”

“Stupid?”

“Brilliant,” Thomas said.

Jimmy's mouth opened. 

“I don’t… obviously, it was all unfinished and all. But it was evocative, got me wondering.” 

“Biased…” Jimmy said, and he was looking away again. 

“Maybe,” Thomas conceded. 

“Not sure I have anything to say…” Jimmy mumbled.

“Seems like you want to see if you do.” 

Jimmy remained quiet, his gaze to the left, but his body in front of Thomas. Jimmy stepped closer again, but it seemed absent-minded and made him afraid to breathe. The wind picked up, reminding them both it wasn’t spring yet, and they both wrapped their arms around their chests. Elbows bumping and Jimmy turned back to face him. 

“So… that is why?” 

“Just thought you might like to have one…”

Jimmy nodded. 

“You shouldn’t stay up too late though, not every night…”

“Right? Decent’s night sleep.”

“Just don’t want you getting in trouble…” Thomas muttered and felt his own cheeks heat up. 

“Yeah… just… you’re right, though, aren’t you?”

“About?”

“Seem to want to say things even if it’s all daft and confused.” 

“Confused?”

Jimmy's eyes seemed to bored into Thomas’ own, the darted up and down Thomas face and his teeth caught on his bottom lip. “Gotta be that…” 

Thomas swallowed the urge to argue, because he saw questions and fear in Jimmy’s expression, in the midnight blue of his eyes and the red on his cheeks. “I never meant to let you… It’s your private…”

Jimmy bit his lip again and then pulled it into his mouth, as though to soothe it, Thomas' eyes pinpointed on the motion, and he blushed deeper and felt awful for it and nearly opened his mouth to apologize when Jimmy spoke. 

“I’m not angry.” 

“You're not?”

“Should I be?” 

Thomas opened his mouth and shut it again. 

“I don’t know either.” 

Thomas searched for something to say but the door to the Abbey creaked, and they both moved away from each other as they swung their bodies toward the sound. Molesley stepped outside and looked in the wrong direction first, before turning to see them. 

“Mr. Carson wants you both upstairs,” the man squeaked out. 

“Idiot Two,” Jimmy muttered under his breath.

“Idiot Two,” Thomas laughed in agreement. 

They started walking, both them taking long strides that fell in unison. Thomas glanced at Jimmy, and their eyes met. Jimmy smiled, and Thomas realized he could breathe easily. Something heavy was there between them, the talk about the journal and Jimmy’s writing — It was new, and it was intimate, and it was frightening. But Thomas breathed a little easier with each step they took toward the Abbey. 

“I’ll make sure not to stay up too late tonight, Mr. Barrow…” Jimmy said as they reached Molesley. 

“I do think that is for the best,” Thomas said in his Under Butler tone. 

“Not going to bed too early either, though, mind…” Jimmy winked at him and then brushed past Molesley. 

Thomas watched him walk away, quite enjoying the sight, and chuckled. He made his own way past Molesley and followed Jimmy up the stairs. He reached the first landing before Thomas and as he turned their eyes met again. He nodded and his mouth quirked up into a different kind of smile. Thomas felt himself smile widely in response as he fell further in love with Jimmy. He couldn’t be upset with it, as he was a time or two whenever his feelings continued to grow rather than recede. No, he felt happy, because he felt like the two of them were closer, their friendship deeper.


	22. Lovely Day

Thomas frowned when the full servant’s hall was missing the one person he wished to see. It was Jimmy half day, and he hoped to catch him before he took off to wander the village or go to Thirsk as was usual practice. Carson had been keeping Thomas busy, however, and it looked like he missed him. He stood by the door and felt lost as to what to do now that his hopes had been dashed. 

“He just went outside,” Anna said. 

Thomas swung his eyes to her, where she sat beside Mr. Bates with a cup of a tea in front of her. He wasn’t at all sure if was speaking to him or not, though it seemed likely in the context. 

“Just a few minutes ago.” She smiled.

“To go down to the village?” he asked. 

“No, he had a book with him, I think. I’m sure you’ll be able to find him.”

Thomas grabbed for his cigarettes and tried to fight the blush threatening his cheeks. He looked away from Anna’s face, it was always so damn kind, especially when she was smiling. It got under his skin and not at all in a way he liked. “I suppose,” he said attempting for nonchalant before he turned on his heel and walked away. 

He didn’t get far when he heard Mr. Bates’ speaking. “Didn’t James say he wished not to be bothered.” 

“He didn’t mean Thomas.” He stopped walking. 

“Didn’t he?”

“Of course not, Mr. Bates,” Anna laughed.

“Funny business that….” Bates said.

“I think it’s nice,” she said.

“It’s trouble,” Bates’ grumbled.

“It’s friendship, that isn’t trouble.”

“That is not all it is…” Bates said.

Thomas clenched his jaw. 

“Oh let it be,” Anna admonished. “He cares about Thomas.” 

“You believe that?” Bates’ laughed.

“Yes.”

“Better you be right than me.” 

“I am, Mr. Bates. As always.”

Thomas passed the cigarette package in his hands back and forth between them and wondered if Anna was correct, or was Bates? Did Jimmy want to be left alone, it was his half day — he had no duties and got time to himself. Something Jimmy took seriously, he liked his privacy, he wasn’t the most open person in the world. Thomas felt he knew him best, but it felt like it was because Thomas cared to know him, rather than Jimmy sharing anything about himself. He felt unsure if he should go outside to look for him or not, suddenly. If he wished to be alone? 

He looked down at his cigarettes and sighed. He needed one, so if he would go out for a smoke, as usual. This was his first break of the day, and it might be his last given the things Carson been muttering about. He wouldn’t seek him out, Thomas decided, in case Bates was right, and Jimmy had gone outside looking for solitude. 

He blinked as he opened the door, the sun bright and surprising. He squinted around as he stepped outside and inhaled the air. It was fresh and sweet, and he grinned a bit because it felt like spring. The air wasn’t too chilly, and for once it wasn’t damp out. He inhaled the air again and grinned a bit, feeling a bit of the tension in his shoulders dissipate. He started to turn toward the alcove to take his cigarette break when he heard something.

Turning toward the sound, he blinked again, blinded by a different sun. Jimmy was walking toward him, humming, the journal tucked under his left arm. Thomas froze still, eyes on him, and the long strides he was taking and the sound of humming, getting louder and louder. Until Jimmy stopped right in front of him and grinned at him. All lopsided and wide. 

“Mr. Barrow,” he said. 

“Jimmy….” Thomas breathed out. 

“Thought you’d never get here…” he laughed. “Come on.”

Thomas gaped at him as Jimmy turned and started walking away. He paused when he realized he wasn’t being followed and glanced back at Thomas. “Close your mouth and come on, Thomas.”

His mouth closed with a click of his jaw and he started walking. Jimmy grinned again and turned back. They didn’t go far, just around the corner and down the path a bit. Then Jimmy ducked into the woods and walked up to where there was a rock under a bunch of trees. Thomas looked around and wondered how he never found this place before. 

“Found this on a walk the other day, following a bunny.”

Thomas chuckled. “A bunny?”

“Yeah?” Jimmy shrugged. “Anyway, it’s quiet and nice place to sit if the weather’s good enough. The buds are starting up?” he pointed at the trees.

Thomas looked at the beginnings of red buds at the end of the branches, and he smiled. “It’ll be leaves before we know it.”

“Yeah, so you like it?” Jimmy asked.

Thomas’ eyes fell back where they wanted to be. Jimmy’s face. “Spring? Of course.”

Jimmy laughed and then glanced away in a rare shy gesture. “I meant the spot.” 

“Oh… yeah.” Thomas nodded. 

“Yeah? 'Cause was thinking, this would be a good fair weather smoking spot for us…” he trailed off, and uncertainty flickered in his eyes. 

Taken aback by the flash of insecurity Thomas stepped closer to Jimmy. “I don’t see why not.” 

“Yeah?” Jimmy grinned. “It’s a good spot, been out here a bit…” 

Thomas risked pointing out the journal, his eyes flicking to it and back at Jimmy. 

“Yeah, wrote for a bit. Plan to do more after you have to go back in.” 

Thomas smiled. 

“So, uh…” Jimmy rolled his eyes and stepped toward Thomas. “Cigarette?”

Thomas laughed and sprung into action. He pulled out two cigarettes and gave Jimmy an exasperated smile as he produced Thomas’ lighter. “I think you’ve had that for a week.”

“Have I?” Jimmy smirked at him. 

Thomas rolled his eyes and moved a bit to settle with his back against a tree trunk. He liked to lean when he smoked. The first inhale of the smoke felt wonderful, and he looked up the branches above them, catching a glimpse of an all blue sky. “Lovely day.” 

“It is,” Jimmy said, and he sat down on the rock, hopping onto it and sliding back until his back hit a tree that was right next to the rock. It made a perfect seat and Thomas instantly realized why Jimmy loved this spot. It was a good place to write, it even came with is own seat. He watched Jimmy settle himself and fall into the usual rhythm of smoking, and something about it made his cheeks heat and his stomach tumble. 

He wondered if those things would ever stop, it felt never-ending, but it was hard not to worry, not think maybe it should end. He looked down at the ground and tried to bring himself back down from the high he'd fallen into. Bates words came back to him and how it all felt more likely than Anna’s thoughts. It was trouble. It wasn’t friendship — not for him. He frowned and inhaled on his cigarette again, deeply, letting it burn his lungs and hid the sigh that threatened. 

“Whoa… where you?” Jimmy’s voice broke through.

Thomas looked up. 

Jimmy was frowning, and that wasn’t right, Thomas thought. 

“Nowhere,” he said looking around.

But Jimmy’s expression was intent and focused. “No, you went someplace.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Is something…” Jimmy countered.

“Jimmy…” Thomas sighed, he couldn’t tell him anything, not without bringing up the things he knew Jimmy didn’t want to hear. “Mind just wandered.”

“Well, bring it back to how it’s spring and we’ve got our own private spot, will ya?” 

“We’ve?” Thomas started coughing, having choked on the smoke. 

Jimmy’s face flushed, but he moved off the rock and started smacking Thomas on the back. His big palm, solid and warm, and jolting Thomas with meant to be helpful smacks. He wasn’t sure how helpful they were, but he pulled in a lungful of fresh air and started laughing. 

Jimmy grinned at him, that same lopsided one from earlier. “That’s better.”

Thomas grinned and shook his head. 

Jimmy settled himself back on the rock, leaning against the tree and put the journal on his lap. Fingers tapped the cover, and he started humming again, his eyes towards the branches. 

“It really is a lovely day,” Thomas whispered the sentiment hitting him again and with even stronger force.


	23. Odd Conversations

Thomas fell into the rocking chair with a groan and leaned back in it allowing it rock him back. He planted his feet down and rocked forward a bit before going back again. Just a bit, not too much, but it was good to sit after hours on his feet, this being the first chance he gotten to pause for breath since luncheon. His eyes fluttered closed, and with well hone habit he fished out a cigarette and his lighter. 

“Mr. Barrow?”

The lighter flamed and he opened his eyes to see Ivy standing a bit in front of him with an expectant look on her face. He eyed her and lit her cigarette. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if I…” she trailed off. 

“You want a cigarette?” he asked her finding the idea highly unlikely.

Her whole face went round in shock. “No, never, I couldn’t.” 

“What is it then?” he prompted, the sooner he got this over with the better. 

“Jimmy.” 

He sat up straighter and felt his hackles rise up. He swallowed the urge to tell her that Jimmy was his. Jimmy belonged to him. But it was there on his tongue, curling at the tip of it and he wanted to say it. Just once he would love to say it — even if it was untrue, it never felt anything but right to him. Jimmy belonged to him. 

“You his friend, Mr. Barrow?” Ivy asked all wide-eyed and not at all aware what she'd awoken inside of him. 

"He is." 

"Then maybe…" she pulled at a nearby chair and sat down on it. "It's just… I really like him, Mr. Barrow and he's… Well, he said he's not the right guy for me, but he's wrong." 

"He's not," Thomas said.

Her eyes widened. "But he is," she argued. "We're around the same age, and we like the same things." 

"You do?"

"Yes. Music and dancing and I think I might like traveling." 

Thomas rolled his eyes. 

Her face fell and then she scowled. "I know you probably find me silly, Mr. Barrow but you are his friend. Don't you want him to be happy?" 

"There is nothing I want more," Thomas said, and he felt a thrill in saying it aloud. 

"Well, couldn't you, you know, point out how good of match we are?" 

"No."

"Why not? It's… it's the way of things."

Thomas sucked in his cheeks with irritation at the way of things. Yes, Jimmy Kent should fall for the pretty kitchen maid. It was the natural order of things, it was the way the world worked and the way things were meant to be. Boy and girl meet and fall in love. The way of things that never could and never would include him. 

"Please?" Ivy asked, and he blinked at her with narrowed eyes and wondered at how obtuse she could be. 

"It isn't interested Ivy," he said. "In you. At all."

"But…"

"He told you, himself."

"I just, think I hurt his pride on his birthday."

"How could you have done that?"

"Well, isn't he always annoying you stealing your lighter? I got him one and he…"

He'd forgotten that Thomas thought as he remembered. As he remembered his anger at her gift. He grabbed his lighter as he remembered Jimmy turning and looking at him at the realization of the gift. 

"I honestly don't mind it at all. We're usually smoking together, what does it matter?"

Ivy gave him a confused look. "Couldn't you…"

"He isn't interested." 

"Don't you think he should be?"

Thomas shook his head. "No." 

"Why not? Is there someone else, is that it?" Ivy asked. 

Thomas sighed. "If he's not into you there must be someone else?"

"He's a man isn't he?" 

Thomas hated her ignorance and envied it. "It's not a requirement."

"Wanting to have a family someday?" Ivy shook her head. "We'd be good."

Thomas wanted this to end. "No, you wouldn't be."

"Why is that?"

"You aren't smart enough, for one," Thomas said bluntly. Anything to get her away from him. 

"I…" her eyes widened. "That's not nice."

"It's the truth," he said. 

"He's not like you, he doesn't think he's superior to everyone," Ivy snapped.

Thomas laughed. 

"He isn't…" she repeated. 

"Believe what you will…" Thomas said. 

"I like him, so much and I think we'd be a good couple."

"He doesn't wish to settle down."

"Yet, but if…"

Thomas looked at his nearly finished cigarette and realized the conversation wasn't even near an end. He sighed and decided to ask the question, one that he wondered idly while bored a time or two and saw Ivy staring at Jimmy and looking smitten. He understood it, but he couldn't help but wonder what it was that her acting all dreamy and stupid around Jimmy. "Why is it you like him, Ivy?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked. "He's handsome, and he can dance. He's funny, and he can play all the newest songs. He's nice."

"He's not nice," Thomas said.

"He is."

Thomas rolled his eyes at her. "You don't know him."

"I do."

"It's an idea, Ivy. It's a crush," he said and added. "A pointless one." 

"But…"

"He isn't the man for you." 

"Is there another girl?" she asked.

"I know of no one."

"Won't you put in a good for me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Haven't you been listening?"

"You don't have to be rude." 

"You don't even know him," Thomas snapped. "He's clever, and he could care less about the newest songs. He may like to dance, but he prefers conversation with people who can keep up with his wit. Half of what he says flies over your head." 

She stared at him, her face falling and she glanced away. "Daisy said you'd be mean."

"Should have listened to her."

"It's just… why can't he like me?" Ivy wiped at her tears. "I like him so much, but it's not enough." 

It was the words her the tears, he told himself that made something tug at him, something kinder and less dismissive. He wished it too, that his love for Jimmy could be enough… if he just loved Jimmy right, it might make everything fall into place. But he couldn't love Jimmy right because his love was beyond that of a friend, which wasn't the way of things. He looked at her and the sad way her mouth was twisted and how her eyes were downcast and impossibly round with sadness. He understood it, being drawn to Jimmy, being taken in -- but Ivy didn't know the half of it he thought because she'd fallen for the surface of Jimmy, the idea of Jimmy. 

"You're in love with an idea," Thomas said his voice uncharacteristically soft. 

She looked at him.

"You want to fall in love, dance to music and think about a future, Ivy. It’s natural, I suppose, but it won't be with Jimmy, but it will be with someone like you, someone who wants that too…" he trailed off. 

"It’s not what he wants?"

Thomas wondered really, he knew Jimmy didn't want it with Ivy, but wouldn't he want it with someone, someday, some woman that kept his interest past an hour. It was likely to happen. Eventually, Jimmy was young still, and there was still so much left for him to do. Thomas felt something lift out of him as the thought struck him that someday Jimmy would likely leave Downton and never turn back. But he nodded to Ivy and told her Jimmy didn't want it. He didn't want love, a family, a life. 

"I just…" Ivy wiped at her face again. "I've taken up too much of your time."

"You have," he said his generosity gone. 

She stood up and gave him a look. "You were almost nice." 

"Was I, I'll try not to do it again," he said. 

"He likes you, more than the rest of us? Even though he used to hate you…" Ivy shook her head and stared at Thomas like he was curiosity. 

"I don't know what you're going on about now," Thomas said, and he went about lighting another cigarette. "If you don't mind, I would like to read the paper in peace." 

"Fine…" she walked away but glanced back, Thomas raised an eyebrow at her, and she turned away. He rolled his eyes and felt as that conversation was a waste of minute he would never get back. With a grimace, he reached out to find the paper, glancing at the clock on the mantle and noticing twenty minutes of his life were gone. He sighed, annoyed and opened the newspaper up with jerky motions. 

"What's got in a mood?" Jimmy asked from the door before stepping in front of Thomas and dropping into the chair Ivy vacated. It meant Jimmy was staring right at him, because of how Ivy turned the chair. 

"Nothing," Thomas lied. 

Jimmy raised his eyebrow. 

Thomas started to read, but he was being stared at. By Jimmy. Which he couldn't ignore, it was an impossibility. The paper lowered, and he met Jimmy's royal blue eyes. "I'd like to read," he said feigning irritation. 

"I'd like a cigarette," Jimmy said. 

"For…" Thomas groused and tossed Jimmy what he needed. 

Jimmy lit one and kept his gaze on Thomas.

"What?" Thomas asked.

"I've got a plan."

"Do you now?"

"We're going to London, right?"

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Yes. Don't get your hopes up about free time."

"Oh, there will be though, Thomas. And think about you and me, London, at night…" Jimmy grinned. "I have plans." 

"You keep saying that." Thomas tried to sound bored, but he was fighting a grin. He liked Jimmy words, his plans, he wanted to be out in the night with Jimmy. But with no one else around, he wanted a world that was just him and Jimmy. 

"We'll make money, then we'll spend money." 

"You mean you'll lose it all." 

"I won't," Jimmy argued sitting up straighter. "Promise me, Thomas."

"What?" Thomas stared at him confused. 

"Just you and me, no one else, we'll paint London red?" 

"Don't know about painting but…" Thomas felt the usual fondness creep over him and something about Jimmy's tone had his brain going fuzzy. "I promise," he said his voice low. 

Jimmy grinned, all lopsided and making crinkles form on his face. He leaned forward and touched Thomas' knee. Thomas stiffened, his eyes widened, and his face flushed the touch scorched him. He felt all of Jimmy's fingers, the press of his palm and he stared at it too. Like he wasn't quite sure he could believe it was there, a weight against his knee and making him feel things he shouldn't at all but he wanted to… 

He looked up from it and found Jimmy just looking at him. Looking at him and grinning like it was all perfectly normal. Happy with his plans and his schemes. He flashed his teeth and seemed to move even closer. 

"So, we find a few games of pontoon, since that's your best game and…" 

"What are you doing sitting, James, the silverware has not been finished…" Carson's voice preceded him into the room.

Jimmy rolled his eyes and pulled his hand away. But it was in the same motion as his standing. Thomas tracked his movements, listened to him tell Carson he was just taking a quick cigarette break. He then shot Thomas a look exasperation as Carson lectured him on taking breaks before one finished the task at hand. Thomas felt spun about, but he managed to smirk in return and nod his head in agreement of Carson being annoying. 

"And you, you are the Under Butler and should be leading by example. Why are you down here, doesn't the library need tending."

"The library is done, Mr. Carson," he said without looking away from Jimmy. "But he is right, James. Get to work." 

Jimmy rolled his eyes again but nodded. "Yes, Mr. Barrow…" he snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the mantle and then walked past Carson like he wasn't even there. 

Carson sputtered for a moment, and Thomas felt like he might have just survived a heart attack. He heard Carson offer an attempt at a polite goodbye before he left the room. But he couldn't focus on that, on him, no his eyes were back on his knee, and he fought to process it, but all he could do was feel. 

The heat of Jimmy's palm.

The strangeness of the action. 

He felt fuzzy and hot and wonderful.


	24. London Part One -- Once Upon a Time

_London_

Thomas frowned as he followed Mr. Carson and Mr. Seaver, the caretaker of the Crawley's London Home. "There was a leak you see. That's been handled, but three of the rooms are still not in working order, Mr. Carson. As I told you my letter. But see for yourself…" he opened a door. 

Thomas looked in over the man's shoulder. The water damage to the ceiling and back walls was quite extensive. "The other rooms?"

"I'm afraid this is the best of the bunch. That only leaves you four rooms to use. I'm afraid you'll have to have people bunk up." 

Carson sighed heavily and looked at Thomas. His eyes fell up and down him with a look of resignation that didn't at all hide the dislike that was always behind Carson's eyes when he looked at him. Thomas waited for it, waited for whatever remark, covered in the veneer of politeness was going to follow. 

"We'll figure it out," he muttered, shaking his head as he looked at Thomas. "But… that can wait for now. I do want to inspect the rest, but… You," he pointed at Thomas. "Go back downstairs and see that everything is unpacked properly. We have a busy few weeks here with all the parties they've been invited too…" Carson's excitement rose up a bit. "It may not be summer, but it's almost like a real London Season again at last." 

Thomas rolled his eyes as he turned away. It wasn't at all like the London Seasons of the past, it couldn't be, the world changed too much. Yet it did feel closer to the way it'd been before the war. He made his way downstairs and found Jimmy and Alfred struggling with one of Lady Mary's trunks. He immediately took hold of it from the middle, stepping behind Jimmy, leaving Alfred on the other side of it, holding the end. 

Jimmy let out a sigh of relief, but only loud enough for Thomas to hear and glanced back at him. "So, what was the trouble?"

"Three of the rooms can't be used. Water damage. The four of us will have to bunk up, two to a room." 

"What?" Alfred exclaimed, and he tripped over his feet, making the three of the nearly drop the trunk abruptly. But Thomas and Jimmy managed to let it fall almost gently to the floor as the three of them feel to ungraceful stop right in front of the main staircase. 

"You git," Jimmy snapped at Alfred.

"Sorry, it's just…" Alfred's eyes swung from Jimmy to Thomas, almost too quickly for Thomas to notice but it was an expected reaction, and he just gritted his teeth and waited for the conversation to play out. 

"What?" Jimmy stared at him blankly.

Alfred gaped at him. "We'll have to bunk up…" 

"I heard, Mr. Barrow."

"So, who…" Alfred stopped himself saying anything else and stood up straighter. "I mean, Mr. Barrow how is Mr. Carson deciding?"

"I wouldn't know," he said dryly.

"How many rooms are there?"

"Four… which likely means Mr. Carson and Mr. Bates will get their own rooms." 

"Shouldn't that be you?" Jimmy asked.

Thomas blinked at him. "What?"

"You're an Under Butler, you have status over Mr. Bates." 

Thomas stared at him and sighed. He knew that he did and he hadn't forgotten. No, he hadn't, and while it did give him certain advantages at home in his dealings with Bates, it did not at all translate that he would get preferential treatment in this area. It hadn't even occurred to Carson, which Thomas realized was rather funny in a way. Carson was like Alfred and worried about what to do about him -- the problem -- when the answer was rather simple. The Under Butler deserved his own room. But no, the room would go to Mr. Bates. Thomas was sure of it, and even under the circumstance, he knew it would do no good to argue against it. The Valet while traveling abroad held a bit of a higher station, Thomas thought that would be Carson's way of thinking -- he was really just another footman, who now and again was allowed to carry on some of a Butler's duties. The ones Carson would trust him with at least. 

"It won't happen that way," Thomas told Jimmy. 

Jimmy huffed out an annoyed breath and opened his mouth. 

"What are doing standing around?" Mrs. Hughes appeared. 

"We had a bit of a fumble, we're heading up now," Thomas told her and grabbed the trunk. The other two followed his lead, and they started up the stairs. Thomas felt Alfred sending him worried glances, but his eyes stayed on Jimmy's back. Watching his shoulders, his jacket stretched tightly across them. Perfectly fitted, really, and he wondered if he was thinking any of the same things Carson and Alfred were fretting about. If anyone had a reason to worry it was him. 

Memories of that night made Thomas' gut twist uncomfortable. They made their way toward the room Lady Mary would staying and deposited the trunk. "I'll find Anna," he said quickly, realizing he was afraid to look Jimmy in the eye. Not with the memory of how he leaned over him that night, his heart in his throat and naive thoughts of romance. 

"Thom… Mr. Barrow," Jimmy called out to him. 

"Keep at work, don't let Mrs. Hughes catch you dawdling again," Thomas said in his Under Butler voice, telling Jimmy to stay on professional behavior. 

As he stepped out into the hallway he heard Alfred yelp, he paused for a moment wondering how he'd managed to hurt himself and thought about turning back. But he couldn't do it, he couldn't look at Jimmy. Not with the memory of how his lips felt against his own. The memory was back, unbidden, but visceral. The warmth of his lips, the plush softness, Thomas pressed his lips together and tried to will himself to shove the memories back into the box he kept a tight lid on. 

He felt thankful for the full day and evening of work ahead of him.

~~~

"So, that will mean Mr. Barrow, Mr. Molesley, Alfred and James the four of you will have to share the other two rooms. I will request of you Mr. Molesley…" Mr. Carson paused dramatically, his expression showing his uncomfortableness with the situation and the request. Thomas sat with gritted teeth, the way he always found himself dealing with _these situations._ It made him feel clammy, and he tasted bitterness at the back of his throat. He stared at the rest of them but found his eyes landing on Daisy and Ivy's confused faces. The two of them glancing at each other, and trying to figure out what it was they were missing. The rest of them were purposely avoiding looking at him, Thomas noticed but wasn't surprised, when he looked away from the confused girls. Then his eyes landed on Jimmy, who was looking right at him with a scowl on his face and a glare in his eyes. As their eyes met Jimmy suddenly nodded like he made a decision. 

"Mr. Carson," Jimmy interrupted, and Thomas stopped breathing.

"Yes, James?"

"I'll bunk with Mr. Barrow." 

Thomas watched, almost outside of himself as everyone at the table turned and stared at Jimmy. It was the opposite of before. Before none of them could look at Thomas and now all they could do was stare at Jimmy. Thomas realized he was included and that he was the one Jimmy was looking at it. He looked perturbed as their eyes met and Thomas was clueless as to what it meant. Thomas shook his head every so slightly which caused Jimmy to glare at him, his jaw jutting out as he scowled. 

"James…"

"I think it solves it," Mrs. Hughes said. 

"But…" Mr. Carson stuttered at her. 

"James and Mr. Barrow, Alfred and Mr. Molesley, it's a fine solution to the problem," Mrs. Hughes said. 

"Well…" Mr. Carson looked at Jimmy. "Are you quite sure?" he asked. 

Jimmy rolled his eyes which made Carson narrow his eyes. 

"I asked you a question."

"Yes." Thomas flinched at how sharp it sounded, so definite, so certain and his heart was pounding too hard against his ribs. He touched his chest and then reached for tea, the glass shaking in his hands he brought it up to his mouth. 

"Then everything I solved," Mrs. Hughes said again.

"What just happened?" Daisy asked Mrs. Patmore.

"Nothing at all, nothing, don't worry a thing about it…" 

"But."

"Nothing at all," Mrs. Patmore shouted at Daisy. 

Thomas watched Daisy look at everyone and then Ivy, the only one sharing her confusion. Ivy shrugged. Daisy sighed. Thomas wished he could dismiss it all so easily. He dared finally to look at Jimmy and realized immediately it'd been a bad idea. Jimmy grinned the moment Thomas met his eyes. He grinned and he winked. Thomas wanted to kill him, for being such a cheeky bastard and for doing this…

He wasn't sure if he was happy about it all. Yes, he didn't want to have to deal with Mr. Molesley trying to make conversation with him, when clearly neither one of liked the other. No, he really didn't want to put up with the affable but hopeless man. At all. But Jimmy, Jimmy was another sort of problem altogether and did he really want to do this? Share a room with Thomas? Wouldn't it bother him? 

The memories of that night were back again, and Thomas sighed, he thought maybe he'd wrestled them away as he supervised the unpacking, but there they were again, and his lips were tingling. He pressed them together and focused on his tea. He had the evening, he had more time to try to get in control of everything. 

~~~

Thomas stood in the hallway outside the door. Their names were on it, in the placard, written in Jimmy's handwriting but he had done it wrong. It said Thomas Barrow and Jimmy Kent. Not Mr. Thomas Barrow, not James Kent. Just Thomas Barrow and Jimmy Kent. Jimmy stripped them down to who they really were and put their names together on the piece of paper. Thomas stared at it, their names, side by side. Written in the same hand Jimmy wrote down words on paper. Thomas felt something pulse through him at the sight of it, of them, together and immediately he remembered why he'd taken so long to walk up the stairs to turn himself in for the night. 

He should be in bed already and sleeping. He was more than an hour late for it, the night was crashing into morning. But he spent the evening keeping busy, finding more and more things to do to keep him from walking into the room. Then when he ran out of busy work, he stepped outside and smoked half a pack of his cigarettes. He almost thought Jimmy would show up, push the door aside and saunter up to him and ask for a cigarette and flourish his lighter at him with a cheeky grin. 

But he never did, and Thomas settled for the matches he found in the kitchen. He told himself he was relieved at Jimmy's absence, which was a lie but he told himself a lot of little lies when it came to Jimmy all the time. What was another one? It was easy, and Jimmy knew Thomas was avoiding him. Because he walked up to him moments after the arrangements were made, all smiles and ready to have a good laugh about Carson's face. Thomas could see it and taste it, and he almost wanted to fall into it. Pretend he was relieved and thankful that Jimmy decided to bunk with him. That Jimmy saved him from Molesley. 

But he couldn't. He just couldn't. 

And he'd been rude about it, pointedly so, and said he had to focus on work and called him James. He'd seen hurt flicker in Jimmy's eyes, making them darker, dimming the brightness but Jimmy smiled at him anyway. Half his usual smirk and his jaw clenched, but he gave Thomas one of his more serious expressions. One that revealed he was clever, he looked at him and nodded. And Thomas thought Jimmy maybe even almost understood why and what was bothering him. Though that was an absurd thought, Thomas barely understood. All he really knew was he couldn't look at Jimmy not with the past on his mind. 

It made the constant ache in his chest feel bigger and more cracked. 

Thomas read their names one more time and told himself it was late. Jimmy was asleep by now for sure, maybe he tried to wait up for Thomas, but sleep would have taken him by now. It was safe to open the door, but the thought made Thomas laugh. No, he was standing in the hall lurking again, and when he opened the door, he would see Jimmy asleep on a bed, looking like a Prince. He sighed and braced himself. It wasn't the same, they weren't the same, it was okay, he told himself, and he opened the door. 

To a room with a light on and Jimmy on his stomach, on his bed, the journal in front of him, chewing on the end of his pencil. That was new knowledge, Thomas thought as he stared at Jimmy. Jimmy was looking right at him, chewing, like he didn't know the pencil was in his mouth, and maybe he had forgotten, Thomas thought. 

"You're awake," Thomas muttered. 

"Ruin your plan?" Jimmy asked, and his put the pen in the journal and closed it. He rolled himself until he was sitting on the edge of the bed and put the journal down. "Did you really think I'd just fall asleep?"

"Yes," Thomas admitted with a shrug. 

"Sleeps hard, you know? My brain never wants to shut up, writing helps some and all but… I was worried tonight, that makes it worse, the insomnia I guess."

"I thought that was better?"

"Some. Not completely," Jimmy said. 

"Well, it is late, so…" Thomas went to grab his pajamas, he'd change in the bathroom. 

"Go and change, I'll wait."

Thomas sighed. 

"Did I really screw this up? Did you really want to have to put up with Molesley? Make me put with Alfred?" 

"No, of course not but that doesn't mean…"

"What?"

"Aren't you…" Thomas sighed. "You shouldn't be uncomfortable with this."

"Why, cause that lot is?" Jimmy huffed. "Carson acting like the thought of sleeping in the same room as you might rub the sin off and onto whoever, I wanted to punch him in his big fat nose." 

_The sin off?_ Thomas shut his eyes. 

"Thomas?"

He tried to remember to breathe. 

There were footsteps, light against the wood, Thomas realized Jimmy's feet were bare. "I'm not."

He was far to close, his breath hit Thomas cheek, and the memory of Jimmy kissing it came back to him. Vividly as if it just happened, the feel of his body heat, the smell of him and the press of his lips. Thomas shivered, and his eyes opened, and he sucked in a breath. It sounded loud in the quiet of the room. 

"I'm not," Jimmy said again.

"You should be," Thomas said. 

"I'm not afraid of you," Jimmy laughed. "I was fool enough to be, once, but that was a long time ago."

"Jimmy."

"Whenever I think about that night, you know the one thing I wish I could change?"

"That it never happened?"

"That Alfred walked in."

"What?"

"Maybe, maybe I should wish it never happened, but I hated that Alfred walked in -- it made it messier, you know, and all the next day after the initial panic at seeing you… It was him that had me worried throughout the day. I knew you'd stay quiet, but Alfred."

Thomas felt his cheeks heat and turned away from Jimmy. He reached for the doorknob. He needed to get away, he wasn't at all capable of talking about it. 

"I'll shut up, okay?" Jimmy said from behind him. "But…"

He could leave, Thomas realized. If he left, Jimmy would stay quiet about that night. No more talking about it, hopefully never, Thomas thought. It was up to him. All he had to do was walk out of the room, change for bed and come back. Jimmy would let him sleep. He looked at his hand on the doorknob, sighed and ended up leaning forward and putting his head against the wood. 

"Once, a long time ago, a foolish footman wished someone hadn't kissed him," Jimmy said, his voice low. "Once, a long time ago, a foolish footman thought the worst thing in the world had happened to him."

Thomas sighed. "I…"

"I know, I know your sorry, Thomas. I don't need to hear it."

"Maybe, I need to say it."

"No, you don't… because a piece of it would be a lie." 

Thomas turned around and stared at Jimmy. Jimmy standing there, too close, with his hair curling into his eyes and wearing a white vest that left nothing to Thomas' imagination. He looked the same as he had that night, young and beautiful. He hurt to look at. 

"You regret it because you care about me but don't regret kissing me. I know you, Thomas. You're hanging onto it."

Thomas nodded. 

"So don't apologize and it doesn't matter anyway because I forgive you."

"What?"

"I led you on," Jimmy smirked. "We both know it." 

"O'Brien had you…"

"O'Brien spun both our heads. Once upon a time, a foolish valet was made to think the foolish footman wanted him by an evil witch."

Thomas laughed. 

"Once upon a time the foolish footman thought he wanted to forget that night and everything connected to it…except the story changed." 

"Did it?"

"The foolish footman was an arsehole and a prick for a year… feeling afraid of…" Jimmy paused, and his cheeks reddened. The confidence and coolness he was affecting shattered a bit, and Thomas realized Jimmy wasn't at as collected as he seemed. Suddenly it was easier to breathe… and allow himself to wonder. 

"What?" he pressed.

"The foolish footman was feeling afraid for a lot of reasons… but the foolish valet now under butler remained kind no matter what… That was irritating you know."

"I know," Thomas smirked. 

Jimmy grinned. 

"Then one day the foolish footman, showed off at a fair and pissed off a few lads who liked to use their fists. And the foolish under butler acted the hero." 

Thomas blushed, but he winced a bit, remembering the punches of that day. Jimmy stepped closer. "The foolish footman felt guilty and wrong. And well… foolish."

"He needn't have…"

"But he did," Jimmy said. "He tried not too, he tried to remind himself how upset he was about the whole thing. But instead, all he remembered was what he was running from…. That he liked the foolish under butler. Thought he was the only sane person in the house. Thought he was smart and kind."

Thomas snorted. 

"You are…" Jimmy argued. "I don't mind being the lucky one."

"Lucky one?"

"That you're nice too…. Anyway. The foolish footman remembered that, liking you and how it got all lost and twisted because of the evil witch and his own damn pride. He recalled all the nice things said and done by the foolish under butler in helping and being irritatingly kind to the foolish footman for almost over a year. And so, he made a decision to forgive, to look past it and well…" Jimmy paused and looked away for a moment, his tongue dragging over his lips. 

"What?"

"The foolish footman realized, quite a long time ago now, that the foolish under butler is the best friend of his life and that means that night can't be regretted. Ever." 

"Jimmy…"

"It brought us here, Thomas. And I like here. It's not happily ever after, but what is? And you look out for me, so, I'll look out for you. Instead of being stuck with Molesley trying to hard to be polite, or Alfred trying to swallow his tongue and not be a git, while side eyeing you. You can be nice and comfortable because it's just me." 

"It's never just you…" Thomas whispered.

"Maybe not, but come on, this is better, isn't it? Me? You? It'll be fun." Jimmy grinned, lopsided with a flash of teeth, his cheeks dimpling into creases. Thomas felt his throat go dry and he made a noise, not a sigh and not a whimper but something in between. Jimmy reached around Thomas and opened the door. "Go on, storytime is over." 

"Jimmy, it's really…"

"Okay." 

Thomas smiled, and Jimmy's seemed to grow. 

"I'll…"

"Yes," Jimmy nodded. "Then we'll sleep." 

"Then we'll sleep…" Thomas echoed, and he turned around, found himself in the bathroom, changing quickly. When he walked back in the room, Jimmy was in his bed, covers pulled up and flipping through the pages of the journal. Thomas couldn't help but notice how filled up it already was and found himself thinking he should get him a second. Thomas nodded at him as he climbed into his bed and he reached for the light. 

"Can I?"

"Yeah, I'm done," Jimmy said. 

Thomas smiled and turned off the light. He stared up at the ceiling, though, for quite a while. Jimmy's words and his expressions playing in his mind and he let himself think about that night. Why he did it, how he justified it, how much he believed in it and that kiss…. And Jimmy was right. The kiss was one thing he'd never regret. It’d be his only taste, and it would have last a lifetime.


	25. London Part Two -- Space Between

_London_

Jimmy’s plan was simple. They would spend their first few nights in London, using their considerable card talents at winning money. Then they would spend that money on shows and good restaurants. They would try to enjoy what they could of London nightlife. It was a good plan but really what struck Thomas about it all was that Jimmy seemed to want to spend his whole time in London with Thomas. He thought he might want to go to dance halls and meet women, women more worldly than the likes of Ivy and the girls in Downton Village. The type of women that could capture the attention of Jimmy Kent. But he hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and Thomas decided he wouldn’t be the one to mention it… 

If Jimmy wanted to be with him, Thomas would be with him. Though it was a bit of a problem at the moment. The plan was that neither of them would get too drunk, so they could focus on the card games and not get cheated out their winnings. No, they would be the ones cheating. Both of them card counters, both of them good bluffers. They could really win some cash, and that would suit their needs just fine. 

But every time Thomas sought out Jimmy he was drinking. And it was entrancing. He sat beside him at the bar, they’d both won their last card games of the night and Jimmy was finishing off a pint of beer. Head tip back, his throat bared and the loosened collar and tie was helping to give Thomas quite a view. The smooth length of his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Thomas clutched his hands on his thighs, rubbing his palms against the fabric and tried not to stare. But try as he might he could not glance completely away — it been happening all night and it was both bothersome and amazing. 

In an attempt to look away he picked up his own pint and took a generous swallow of it, froth on his upper lip, he licked it off and found himself turning toward Jimmy again — he couldn’t keep his eyes way. Jimmy wasn’t drinking, the glass in his hand was empty, and he was looking right Thomas, his lips parted, and his tongue poked out licked his bottom lip. 

Thomas swallowed a groan and turned it into clearing his throat. “We should head back.”

“How much did you win?”

“Fair amount, we’re not counting it here. You?”

“Fair amount,” Jimmy echoed with a grinned. “You going to finish that?”

Thomas shook his head, and Jimmy reached for his pint and swallowed it down in a few gulps and Thomas bit his lips to stop himself from groaning again as Jimmy bared his throat again. He put down the empty pint moments later and licked his lips. 

“Thought we weren’t getting drunk?”

“That was for early in the night, to stake out the place, win all the first rounds of play. Did it perfect, last game was easy peasy, I deserve this. Gotta celebrate.” Jimmy’s hand landed on his knee and squeezed. “Loosen up, Thomas.” 

“I’m loose enough,” Thomas thought as he stared at Jimmy’s hand on his knee. This was now the second time this happened, the warm press of his palm against Thomas. Jimmy’s strength evident and his fingers so graceful. Thomas stared at it and realized how close he came to putting his own hand over Jimmy’s. Wanting to touch him, wanting to bring his hand to his mouth and kiss it. He closed his eyes and felt almost burned. 

Then Jimmy’s hand was gone, and all he felt was chill. 

“One more drink?” Jimmy said. 

“All right…” Thomas gave in, it wasn’t too late and if they were done with their gambling. “Wait, why you steal my drink then?” 

Jimmy laughed loud and almost obnoxious, and the sound of it filled Thomas with joy. “Don’t know…but I’ll buy you another.” 

Thomas watched him wave the bartender over, and he settled himself more comfortable on the stool, pushing it closer to the bar, closer to Jimmy. Maybe he wouldn’t notice, Thomas thought if he just made sure their elbows kept hitting. Jimmy looked back at him as the man went to pull their beers and his hand shot out and touched Thomas’ knee again. Higher up, due to Thomas moving closer. He tapped something out with his fingers, pressing fingers against his skin and started humming. 

“What is that?” Thomas asked.

“Hmmm…” Jimmy hummed.

“What song are you humming?”

“Don’t know…haven’t named it.”

Thomas' eyes widened. 

“Don’t think it needs a name really, just got to pinpoint the feeling better…” 

“Do you?”

“Don’t you think feelings can be too much, sometimes?” Jimmy asked. 

Thomas blushed and smiled and tried to answer him, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. 

“I knew you’d understand,” Jimmy gripped his knee firmly and stared right at Thomas as he hummed. When their pints were delivered, Jimmy slipped his hand away in a graceful motion paid the bartender. But he flashed too much cash and Thomas had flashbacks to the fair. He reached out, grabbing Jimmy’s wallet and pushing the money into it more neatly and he pushed it into his inside pocket beside his own wallet. When he looked up, Jimmy gave him an exasperated smile and shook his head. 

“What?”

“Always looking out for me,” Jimmy whispered, and his hand went up in the space between them, and it hovered by Thomas' face before it went down and landed on Thomas shoulder. “Don’t deserve it.”

Thomas shook his head and reached for his pint. He took a generous swallowed and licked at his upper lip again and then he almost spilled it all on his lap as Jimmy’s hand slid back onto his knee, and he felt breath against the side of his face. He turned toward him, and Jimmy’s face was right there with intense blue eyes. Thomas swallowed over a sudden lump in his throat, and he thought he should move, he should pull away and put more of a respectable distance between them. 

“Thomas?”

“Yes?”

Jimmy turned and picked up his pint, he took a long gulp, throat and lips and Thomas just let the arousal seep into him. It was a low buzz that mixed with the alcohol, but he just wasn’t drunk, but he was feeling dizzy. But it was Jimmy, it was Jimmy making his blood run in the wrong direction. The hand on his knee started tapping out music only Jimmy knew again, and Thomas froze and started looking around them. 

No one was paying them any mind The club was full of smoke and chatter, men and some women, at tables gambling and drinking. They were living their lives and had no time for anyone else’s. It was so different from home, so different from Downton. But it would only take one person noticing, and Thomas wrapped his fingers around Jimmy’s wrist and pulled his hand away from him as his feet hit the floor and he pushed his stool back away from being so close to Jimmy’s. 

Jimmy’s eyes went wide as he watched his own hand being taken away from Thomas’ knee. He stared at it until Thomas let go and his hand fell to his own leg, and he looked at Thomas. He looked almost confused and something else, and he licked his lips before turning abruptly away and wrapping both his hands around his pint. 

Thomas let out a sigh, not realizing he’d been holding his breath, holding it in his throat. He turned away from Jimmy as well and took hold of his pint. They drank, slower than Thomas expected, side by side in a strange silence. Thomas kept glancing at him, now and again, and if Jimmy caught him both, their mouths would twitch up into a smile. 

“We should go,” Thomas said, though he only drank down half of his pint, his heart wasn’t in it, he was afraid of the alcohol maybe. He felt in another world as it was, it wouldn’t do to get more inebriated right now. Not with Jimmy. Maybe if he was with someone else, but that was a laugh, who else was there? 

Jimmy nodded and moved off of his stool and lost his balance. He lurched forward, arms shooting forward and his hands grabbed onto Thomas, his hands bunching up the sleeves of his suit jacket. They stared at each other, slowly the both smiled. Jimmy chuckled, and he let go. “There, found my feet.”

Thomas laughed. 

Thomas walked behind Jimmy, through the crowd, and out the door. The two of them putting on their hats and frowning at the rain. The sky had been clear when they made their walk to the club. It wasn’t pouring, but it was more than a drizzle. Thomas felt a bit of a chill because of it, after being in a room warm from body heat. Jimmy grumbled and staggered a bit as he walked, bumping into Thomas. 

“I think you lost your feet,” Thomas joked.

“I think I need a cigarette,” Jimmy muttered, and he pulled Thomas’ lighter out of his pocket. 

Thomas rolled his eyes and fished out two cigarettes. He put his in his mouth and handed the other to Jimmy. But Jimmy stopped walking, making Thomas turn back a few strides. Rain falling on his face, with a shift in the wind, he held the cigarette out for Jimmy. But he stood where he was and swayed a bit, from being too drunk, Thomas thought, and he felt a rush of concern. 

“Gotta light it,” Jimmy said, and he flicked on the lighter and lifted it to the cigarette Thomas had forgotten about in the space of seconds because of the distraction that was Jimmy Kent. His doom, he thought as he got trapped with looking Jimmy right in the eye. Jimmy lit his cigarette for him like this before, a million times, outside at the Abbey. Quick and efficient it was a helping hand. It wasn’t this, they were staring, Jimmy was staring at him. It was different, it was wide open, and Thomas thought maybe he looked amazed. Which was baffling. 

“I think about it all the time,” Jimmy swayed forward.

“What’s that?” Thomas asked as he took his own lighter from Jimmy’s hand and lit the cigarette he was carrying. 

Jimmy reached out and took it, their fingers brushing and Thomas thought it felt like lightning. “I think about it a lot…” Jimmy whispered, and he was looking at Thomas again. 

“What?”

“That space between waking and dreaming.”

“We’re getting wet,” Thomas said, and he grabbed Jimmy’s elbow, guided him back into walking.

“I think of it all the time, that space in the between, where you're both there and here and sometimes you know things there with perfect clarity, yet it vanishes when you wake… and you're empty without it.” 

“Really?”

Jimmy stopped again and grabbed Thomas’ shoulders, he pulled him toward him, and Thomas felt himself go with it, his feet take half a step and their chests were nearly touching. “I might be there right now, but is waking or sleeping… would it feel the same here?” 

“What?”

Jimmy closed his eyes, his left hand fell from Thomas’ shoulder and trailed down his chest. Thomas gasped, a sharp intake of breath and Jimmy’s eyes flew open, and he stared. “Red.”

“What?” Thomas laughed. 

“I can’t find it, the right shade of red…” Jimmy’s left hand left his chest and seemed to raise up towards Thomas' face, and a strange fear overtook him and he snapped. 

“Jimmy.”

Jimmy blinked, and he stepped backward. “Red, it’s not just a color, you know, it’s a million different ones. It’s apple or strawberry, or roses… but none of them are right. And gray? Gray is harder, but most of the time it’s the sky seconds after a storm, right before it clears. But there is no word for that… are there words for it? Or must all the details press into the page?”

Fear and confusion were making Thomas head and chest hurt. He reached out but failed to grab Jimmy’s elbow and took a deep breath. Then he reached and grabbed it, pushed at him and started him walking again. He inhaled on his cigarette and gave Jimmy a sidelong glance. Jimmy was looking up at the sky, letting the rain hit him on the face. 

“I think I’d like to see them that dark, this gray, it’d be beautiful. Maybe that’s how they looked, at that moment when I was drifting in that space between dreams and waking.”

“You’re drunk,” Thomas said the words making his head spin, despite not knowing why. 

“I’ll write it all down when we get back.”

Thomas nodded. “All right,” he said and felt his tension ease. He was writing poetry, he realized, that was all it was. Jimmy Kent drunk on beer and writing odd poems in his head. This was a glimpse of it, a piece of the secrets that were written in the journal and the words that were on all those pieces of paper Thomas used to find. Words that always made Thomas feel things even if he hadn’t the language or ability to understand way. 

Fragments of Jimmy, that’s what they were, and that was why it always slipped into his mind and caused such a deep curiosity. He sighed a bit and glanced at Jimmy. Who was looking at him and Jimmy grinned, wide and lopsided, crinkles forming around his eyes and Thomas looked away quickly, because he loved that face far too much. 

“You always look away, why?” Jimmy asked his voice a slurred whine. 

“Because I have to.”


	26. London Part Three - Eavesdropping

Thomas glanced at the clock in their room. It was an old clock, and it was a bit slow, which meant there was less time than it was telling him. He reached out and picked it up and flipped it over. Looking at the back of it and thinking about taking it apart and fixing it up. It probably needed a good looking over, when was the last time it’d been expected to be put to use. He shook his head and put the clock down. He was putting off what he knew he needed to do. He stood up from where he set on his bed and glanced at his image in the mirror. He looked impeccable, dressed in his livery and ready for the day. 

Jimmy snored. 

Thomas felt exasperated as he looked at Jimmy. He was out cold, arms wrapped around his pillow. He was hugging it, and his face was facing Thomas the other half of it smashed into the pillow. His hair falling over his eyes, a curly unruly mess. He looked bloody beautiful. The arsehole. Thomas glanced at the too slow clock and saw he really had no more choice. 

He walked the short distance from where he stood to Jimmy’s bed. Trepidation rushed through him. The thought of waking him from a slumber was making him feel queasy. Didn’t matter how many times he reminded himself this was not at all the same situation he couldn’t get his feelings to fall in line with the logic and the practical need of it. Jimmy would late if he didn’t wake up soon and there was no need to have him starting the day out in Mr. Carson’s bad graces. Jimmy was there enough anyway, and they might lose the privilege of going out once all their work was done. If Jimmy lost his, Thomas wasn’t about to go out and about London on his own. 

But Thomas cringed and leaned a back a few times. “Get a grip, Barrow,” he muttered and stooped down and pressed his hand onto the middle of Jimmy’s back. Immediately he felt Jimmy’s body heat, his vest felt warm to the touch from being against his skin — lucky shirt, Thomas though wryly. He pressed down and tried to pull him away. 

Jimmy snored. 

“Jimmy?” Thomas tried, and he pressed down again, and his eyes fell to Jimmy’s shoulder. He could shake him there, but his heart hammered at the thought of touching him there. Somehow the middle of his back, felt safer, not that it was at all. It was just Jimmy might see it that way. “Jimmy,” he spoke louder. 

Nothing. 

Thomas sighed, gritted his teeth and his hand rose and grabbed Jimmy’s shoulder. Using force to shake him and he said his name a few more times. “Jimmy, Bloody hell… wake up.’ 

Jimmy made a noise and started to move. Thomas flinched back but then sighed as he watched Jimmy grip onto his pillow harder. Irritated now he easily grabbed onto his shoulder and shook him again. A bit harder, his frustration showing. “Jimmy, Jimmy, wake the fuck up.”

Jimmy snuffled and his eyes blinked open. Then they shut immediately, and Jimmy groaned. “Ow… Thomas?”

“You’re late.” 

“I’m dying, I’m having a stroke or something,” Jimmy groaned and rolled onto his back, bringing the pillow with him and putting it over his face. 

Thomas snorted. “It’s the hangover.”

Jimmy jolted straight up, the pillow flying off the bed and he looked at Thomas with a wild expression, and he looked around the room. “What happened last night?”

“You got drunk, and you best not act like you’re hungover at all in front of Carson. We won’t be able to head out again.” 

“Right, I remember leaving the bar, and it was raining…” 

“We both got quite wet, thanks to you stopping every five feet.” 

“What was, what was I doing?” Jimmy stared at him warily. 

“Making no sense,” Thomas waved at him. “Are you going to get out of bed?”

“Right, right…” he looked at the clock. “That doesn’t say I’m late.”

“It’s five minutes slow,” Thomas said.

“Ugh… why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” He hopped out of the bed and pulled his vest right off. 

Thomas stopped turning, as he meant to leave the room and start off his day but now he was standing in a room with a half-dressed Jimmy. His eyes fell on his back and watched his muscles move as he started grabbing at his things. It was perfection. He needed to leave. 

“Thomas,” Jimmy spun around, and Thomas realized he was still looked wild and unsure. “I didn’t say anything…um… I didn’t say anything about…”

“About?” Thomas tried to focus on what he was saying, but he was distracted by trying not to stare at Jimmy’s flat stomach because the man had been built by God to destroy him. He closed his eyes for a moment, but he couldn’t very well keep them closed. That’d be as obvious as staring, where the bloody hell was he supposed to look? His eyes opened, and he wondered if you could die from looking directly at absolute beauty. Wasn’t Jimmy trying to ask him something, he looked up at his face and saw that he was worrying his tie between his fingers. “Jimmy, what?” Thomas prompted and tried not to allow his eyes dip back toward his stomach. 

“Uh, nothing, you know what, I’d know by…if I had…” Jimmy laughed, but it and weird edge to it and Thomas was momentarily distracted by it enough to remember Jimmy was out of sorts. He looked at Jimmy’s face which for once felt like safe territory. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimmy laughed. “I just… don’t remember much after the rain. I hate that you know, but we got back okay… and …”

“We got back fine, and nothing odd happened.”

“So, I wasn’t you know… weird?”

“You were pretty drunk, as I’ve said.”

“But you know my usual drunk?”

“Well you didn’t get accosted by muggers,” Thomas joked. 

Jimmy rolled his eyes and instantly winced. “Ow.”

“I put some headache powders on the table…” Thomas pointed. 

“Great, thanks… As long as… well, yeah, I’d know by now.”

“Know what?”

Another odd chuckle. 

“Jimmy?”

“Go, go on Thomas, I’m making you late, you hate being late.” 

Thomas sighed but nodded. “Alright, I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Yeah…” Jimmy grinned at him. 

Thomas let his eyes slide down his bare chest and stomach before he turned around to face the door. Just one last glimpse, one last attempt at putting it in his memory for life. He turned the door, stepped outside and couldn’t help but peer back in, and he smiled. Yes, he’d turned around again, his back was glorious. He felt his whole body heat up, arousal and feeling as if he was embarrassing himself. Thomas closed the door and hurried down the halls. It was time to start their day at Grantham House. 

~~~

Thomas was about to turn the corner into the servant’s all when he heard Anna’s voice. “Are you okay, Jimmy?” 

There was a strange slapping noise and the groan of a chair against wood. “Anna, you scared me,” Jimmy said.

“I apologize, you looked… concerned.”

“Uh…” 

“Jimmy?”

“Have you ever?” Jimmy asked but he suddenly laughed. “Never mind, you haven’t.”

“Well, maybe I have, can’t know until you ask?”

“No, Anna…” Jimmy sighed. “I just… was afraid that I may have put my foot in my mouth last night.”

“With, Mr. Barrow?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“I doubt you could ever say anything he would mind.”

“Right, yeah… walk on water I do…” Jimmy’s voice was flat.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not for the reasons you’d think.”

“You were drunk?”

“A bit, I didn’t think I drank that much but… I don’t remember a thing past that it was raining when we left the club.”

“And what’s in that book?”

“Uh…” Thomas heard the odd sound again and realized it was Jimmy opening and shutting a book. The journal. 

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I can’t, I can’t…” Jimmy huffed out a loud sigh. “I wrote four pages last night.” 

“Oh? Wrote what?”

“Oh, it’s junk mostly, it’s… nothing. But I wrote four pages last night.”

“About nothing.”

“Well, about yeah _nothing…_ ” Jimmy’s voice spiked higher. “ _Something._ ” he squeaked. 

“Oh… so the drink was inspiring.”

“No, beer is not what's inspiring…” Jimmy coughed. “I better get back upstairs, breaks over…”

“Okay. But Jimmy, if you need to talk?”

“I know, Anna, thanks… I, I’m worrying for no reason, really, I am…I’ll see you at supper.”

Thomas panicked for a moment before he realized he could just walk in as Jimmy was walking out. He'd done it his entire life as a servant, never look guilty and no one ever found out you were eavesdropping. He and Jimmy nearly collided but seeing him startled Jimmy enough he dropped his journal. 

“Oops,” Thomas said and dove quickly to get it. Straightening up he offered it to Jimmy. 

“Thomas…I mean Mr. Barrow… uh…thanks…” Jimmy looked everywhere but at him and his cheeks were bright red.

He blinked at the sight of it.

Jimmy finally met his gaze, after taking the book — rather swiftly — out of his hands. “I need to get this back upstairs and ….”

“I’ll see you later… James,” he said the moniker Carson insisted on with a bit of an eye roll. 

Jimmy laughed but ducked his head, and Thomas noticed his cheeks seemed redder rather than paling to pink. He turned his head and watched him walk away and felt baffled. Jimmy’s face, the conversation with Anna. He turned and stepped into the room completely. Anna gave him a smile as a hello, and he walked over to the chair by the fireplace. He liked having a similar spot here as he did back home at Downton. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, trying to make sense in his mind about what he overheard and seen. 

“You and Jimmy weren’t too late last night?” Anna asked. 

“Not overly.”

“He said he had a bit to drink.”

“He didn’t have much more than I did,” Thomas said, protecting him on instinct. 

“He doesn’t seem as if he did, but isn’t quite himself today is is he?”

“Is he?” Thomas looked at her and feigned confusion.

“So he isn’t?”

“What?”

“Not quite himself?”

“No,” Thomas told her his voice sharp, but he was thinking about all the strange things Jimmy been spouting. About dreams and colors. About knowing things in your sleep, you would forget on waking — that was what Thomas had taken from it all at least. It was all abstract, and like the snippets Thomas used to find. Out of context and beyond his scope of knowledge. 

“He seems worried that’s all,” she pressed which was odd.

“He has no reason to be,” Thomas said looking at her and found that she looked like she knew something. “What?”

“It’s just I know you were listening.” She pointed at a mirror that was angled just so that from where she sat she could see the hallway where Thomas been lurking. 

Thomas smirked at getting caught but shrugged. It was Anna. What did that matter?

“You might want to set his mind at ease.”

Thomas frowned and focused on his cigarette. Thinking more about Jimmy’s rantings, really… He was worried, the subject matter must be private. He tried not to feel hurt that Jimmy had secrets. Everyone had secrets. He wanted to know everyone’s, but he craved Jimmy’s more. Jimmy had given him more snippets, this time with his voice rather than on paper. It’d scared Thomas, it had gotten under his skin, but he was curious. 

But no he wouldn’t press. Jimmy was allowed his secrets. 

“No…that wouldn’t do…” Thomas muttered. 

“Would think you want to put his mind at ease.”

“He knows he has nothing to worry about….” He wouldn’t say anything, and with any luck maybe some other night he’d get to hear more snatches of Jimmy’s writing. Get to peer into his mind. 

“Well in any case maybes he's learned to be more cautious with his drinking,” Anna offered. 

Thomas laughed because Jimmy would soon forget the lesson and it was what he was counting on. There were more nights to come on this London trip.


	27. London Part Four -- Lost The Direction

It took Thomas and Jimmy all ten seconds in the dance club realize their investigations on gossip overheard while serving the family was sound. The Blue Dragon was indeed the place the late Matthew Crawley described as the outer circle of Dante’s Inferno to Mary’s delight and his Lordship’s horror. Jimmy smirked at Thomas as they checked their coats and Thomas surveyed the scene with nonchalance. They two of them weren’t nearly as bowled over by the music and the shenanigans as the late Mr. Crawley, so they’d met each other’s glances with twin smirks and made their way inside.

It was an hour and a half later, and Thomas bowed at the lady he been dancing with and smirked a bit at her wink before she twirled off to find another partner. All the ladies he found his arms wrapped around seemed quite pleased he only cared about the moment and the music and little else. He would leave the other things up to Jimmy. He was a bit breathless he thought as he made his way toward the bar, the alcohol from his first rather strong cocktail seemed to have burnt off from the dancing. He ordered the same and scanned the filled and smoky room for Jimmy. His eyes scanning the floor, searching for flopping dark blond curls, strong back or his mouth curled up in a smile. 

He found the floor empty of him however and frowned. His eyes started scanning around, and the song playing came to a stop, and the silence lulled long enough to be noticed, music not quite picking up again instantly. Thomas eyes along with everyone else’s went to the jazz band on the stage, and there was Jimmy sitting down at the piano. His mouth was moving, he was talking a blue-streak to the man he'd taken over the piano bench from. Thomas heard the singer, speaking into the microphone but didn’t bother to listen to his words. He knew damn well Jimmy somehow talked them into letting him play. The dance crowd was looking at him, rather forlornly like the thought their night was about to get less fun. Thomas smirked as he made his way through them and closer to the stage. 

Then the music started again, and Thomas heard it, that clear sound that told him it was Jimmy Kent at a piano. It never mattered what he was playing, even if he emulating someone else, he had his own touch, his own sound and it rang out clearly and quickly as he played the jazz song with the band like he always been on the stage. 

Thomas watched the band members eyes widen, then their heads nod and then they were picking up the pace. Cause they’d been going easy, on the over-confident kid, he was certain they’d thought Jimmy to be. The dancers all seemed to sigh a collective relief, and then they were moving. A blonde, Thomas danced with earlier grabbed his arm, but he shook his head. She nodded at the stage and gave him a knowing smile. Thomas blushed, he hadn’t thought she noticed he spent their entire two dances watching Jimmy glide around with a tall brunette. He shrugged a bit though, feeling safe being caught in this one instance and finally made his way to the stage. Or as close as he could get without being trampled by dancers. He found a wall to lean against and sipped at the drink in his head. Alcohol burning his throat and the sight of Jimmy at the piano burning his eyes. 

He looked sweaty, hair flopping in his eyes and he was grinning. In that way, he did when he got lost in a song on the piano. But it was wider, more dimpled, the creases in his face deep laugh lines that made him seem all the more handsome. “If possible,” Thomas breathed out. He was happy, his eyes falling to the crowd and drinking it in. Knowing the dancers moving as fluidly and quickly as they’d been all night meant he was a hit, he was loved, and Jimmy loved that kind of attention. 

Jimmy glanced in just the right direction and saw him. Thomas could tell but the shift in his smile and the widening of his eyes. It was a quick glance, over his shoulder, he was back paying attention to the keys, the song, but then he was glancing again in Thomas’ direction and grinned at him like a loon. And he was quite crazy and bold, Thomas thought. He wondered how he cajoled himself onto the stage but wasn’t at all surprised he managed it. 

~~~

They stood outside the Blue Dragon, just out of the rain, cigarettes in their mouths, shoulder’s brushing as they leaned against a brick wall. People were passing them, heads bent, umbrellas opening, coats covering them as made their way out of the jazz club into the London Night. They stayed away too late the place the closing and they both felt a bit fueled still from alcohol and the buzz of the energy instead. Thomas glanced at Jimmy and saw he was bouncing a bit on his heels, music was probably still flowing through him Thomas thought — he'd never seen Jimmy smile quite so brightly in all the time he known him. And he always thought Jimmy was lit from within. 

“You’re quite the dancer, Mr. Barrow.”

“I told you, I quite like dancing.”

Jimmy inhaled on his cigarette his eyes falling a red-headed woman they both danced with as she walked past them and down the street. “Even though…” he asked. 

“I find it freeing not to have to worry about impressing my partner. As long as I keep off her toes and we enjoy the length of the song as if it’s own moment…” Thomas exhaled and smoke plumed out in front of them both, and he glanced at Jimmy and felt a bit taken aback by the intensity of his stare. He licked his lips, inhaled a bit too hard on his cigarette and looked away. 

“I preferred the piano,” Jimmy said his tone dark and wistful. 

Thomas turned toward him again and wondered why he felt surprised. “Not the flirting? You must have gotten names?”

“A few offered,” Jimmy said. “I enjoyed the dancing but the flirting…” he made a strange face. “Only one was witty enough, but she was all wrong.”

“All wrong?”

Jimmy ducked his head down and dropped his cigarette, stomping it out with the heel of his shoe. “The piano though, did you see it? It was perfectly in tune, not like the piano back in the servant’s hall back home. Grand and beautiful. Felt like I was being given a gift to touch those keys — and I wanted to the moment I saw I got a look at it. Knew I could play it, play as good as their player or better.”

“Better,” Thomas said. 

“Maybe,” Jimmy said with a bit of sincere modesty. “I just… wish I could own one, call it my own, play it whenever I wanted. Not like back home, the Crawley’s piano, no one touches it but the people who dust it. It’s a waste.” 

“It is,” he agreed. 

“That and you…” Jimmy sighed. “Bests part of tonight.”

Thomas blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”

“What?” Jimmy glanced at him, his eyes bright and his smile soft. “Are you really surprised it means so much to me?”

“Music? No, not at all.”

“Winds shifted, we’re getting wet…” Jimmy groused.

“Well, we remembered an umbrella this time,” Thomas said and lifted it where he was holding it with his left hand. He made no motion to open it, he wasn’t ready to start their walk back to Grantham House. It was foolish, he thought, they were running out of time, the night was ending and the next day was looming. 

But he wanted to stay where he was with Jimmy. 

“I wish…” Jimmy started and stopped.

“What?”

“That was didn’t have to go back to that bloody house and wait on those bloody people,” Jimmy sighed. “Neither of us belong there.”

Thomas sighed and shook his head. 

“What?”

“Resigned to it, I suppose…” he said. 

“Why?”

“I’m good at it,” Thomas smiled. “I can’t play the piano, Jimmy. I have no other set of skills, but I am good at service. I know the Crawley’s and I can expect their needs. It’s…” 

“You’re better than them,” Jimmy snapped. 

“Well, yes…” Thomas laughed, but he felt the lie of it. 

“Don’t…” Jimmy sighed. 

“Jimmy, what is it?” Thomas asked, and he felt it again, an energy, an inkling he was missing something, not seeing everything for what it was or what it could be — and he hated it because it made him feel ill-prepared. He searched Jimmy’s eyes and noticed how intense they looked again. Dark but still royal blue, but shiny and saying something Thomas didn’t understand. But it made his insides flip, and his blood grew hot and fast under his skin and sped up his heart. He licked his lips and forced himself not to look away. He liked it, though it scared him but not enough to not crave it. That it kept happening felt both a blessing and a confusion. He wondered if that would change if he understood what Jimmy’s gaze meant, what he was thinking, what was going on behind that soft smile. 

“Settle…” he said. 

“Settle?”

“Yeah…” Jimmy sighed and looked away from him. “Though…”

“What?”

“I thought I’d be gone by now…” Jimmy sighed. 

“What do you mean?”

“Given my notice, gone off and make my way… talk myself onto stages and stay there because I’m good enough, talented enough to. Maybe find my way to America or Spain. Anywhere but here, or just here, in London, in the bustle and not answering to anyone but myself.” 

Fear crushed his lungs, and Thomas fought to not show breathing was a struggle. It was his biggest fear, that, what Jimmy was saying because he knew it to be true. Jimmy wanted to travel, he wanted to live, he wanted to make the world stare at him. 

“But then…” Jimmy shook his head. “But then…” 

“What?”

“They loved me, Thomas. Tonight. The band, the crowd, all those strangers staring at me and amazed by what I was doing. All of it, all of them.”

“I know,” Thomas nodded. 

“But none of it mattered.”

Thomas shook his head in confusion.

“Only…” Jimmy laughed. “You’re eyes go charcoal when you’re happy.”

Thomas blinked. 

“Most people, their eyes clear or something, but no yours get dusty and darker.”

“Jimmy?” Thomas felt dazed and confused. “Did you drink too much again?”

“It wasn’t the pints, and this isn’t the cocktails,” Jimmy laughed. “It wasn’t, it couldn’t have been…” Jimmy looked away from him for a second but then their gazes were locked and his blue eyes bright and intense. 

“Jimmy?”

“I talked myself onto that stage tonight.” 

“You must tell me how” Thomas smiled. 

“Maybe, tomorrow… I talked myself onto that stage, my palms were sweaty when I sat down on the bench. I was drenched with it, afraid I might hit the keys wrong — until I started playing anyway. I was terrified, but I did it. I did it.”

“You’re brave.”

“Yeah, I told myself that, I’m saying it right now. I was brave tonight.”

Thomas nodded.

“But I feel like a coward right now…” Jimmy sighed, he looked away and reached out, bent around Thomas and took the umbrella. He opened it up and cocked his head. “We better get back.”

“What? No,” Thomas argued because it felt like the thing he wasn’t grasping was right in front of him. He felt like he lost the direction of their conversation. His pulse was racing both at the thought of losing Jimmy to music and wanderlust but also at the way he was being stared into. He was confused and riled up, and he shook his head. 

“We gotta go,” Jimmy said. “It’s past time, we’ll barely make it back before dawn… We’ll both be useless tomorrow if we stay longer.”

It was all reasonable. It was downright responsible. Thomas wanted to rail against it, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded and his head, stepped forward, and the two of them walked in silence all the way back.


	28. London Part Five -- A Smoke

Jimmy knocked into Thomas as he seemed to bodily throw himself into leaning against the wall in the courtyard of Grantham House that Thomas was leaning against, a cigarette in his mouth. He was halfway through his smoke and his break when Jimmy arrived. A sudden buzz of energy, filling the air with a long and whiny sigh. Thomas' mouth twitched upward, and he gave Jimmy a sidelong glance. 

"Long day?"

Jimmy huffed and put out his arm, waving his hand around in front of Thomas.

Schooling his features into his blank servant's mask Thomas shook his head at Jimmy, feigning confusion.

Jimmy turned more toward him, eyes widening in a rather comical glare, his jaw scowling as he waved his hand around some more. 

"Use your words, James…" Thomas laughed. 

"Sod off and give one over," Jimmy snapped but his mouth turned up in a smile, and he let out a sigh that was more relief than whine. "My morning has been impossible with Alfred gone…." He pauses and puts on his Carson impersonation. "As the first footman, it behooves you to take on the extra duties while those under you are unable to perform." Jimmy huffed and went on. "What was the point of bringing Molesley then?"

"To irritate us all." 

Jimmy laughed.

"Has he returned yet?"

"From the Ritz?" Jimmy rolled his eyes. "He's painstakingly going over every excruciating minute with Daisy and Ivy. If hadn't come out here I'd be murdering him. Would shove the hardboiled eggs Ivy's doing something with right down his throat." 

"Quite the visual."

"Like you've never imagined."

"Usually it's Carson I'm trying to suffocate with eggs, not Alfred."

"Both for me." Jimmy shook his head and then waved his hand again. "You gonna give me a bloody cigarette or not?"

"Oh, that what all your charades meant?"

"Haha," Jimmy growled at him.

The sound went straight down Thomas' spine, and he sucked in his cheeks, thankful his cigarette was currently between his lips. He pressed down on it a bit more than usual as his hand fished into his pockets for his pack. "I'm afraid I seem to be without a lighter."

His lighter flashed in Jimmy's hand, along with a glimpse of Jimmy's teeth as he smiled. "That's awful, you really should stop misplacing it, Mr. Barrow."

"It's quite a bad habit of mine."

Jimmy took the offered cigarette and lit it. He sighed again as he inhaled his first puff. He leaned against the wall again, throwing all his weight into it and his arm jostling against Thomas' side. "This will be my life if he gets into that sodding cooking school. Doing his and me own jobs, Molesley just doddering around acting more important than he is." 

"It won't be so bad, not back at Downton… Mr. Carson is likely to slide a few onto me." 

"Should he?"

"Should rarely has a thing to do with it…"

"Well put your foot down."

"It will depend on the task, I like to pick my battles…" 

"Suppose so…" Jimmy fell silent. 

Thomas sighed as he finished his cigarette. "Well, I have to get back into it."

"Already? I just got here."

"You were late."

"Not me fault is it," Jimmy whined.

Thomas shrugged and started to walk away, but hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled at him gently. He paused, his eyes falling to Jimmy's hand wrapped around his wrist. The skin of his fingers felt like they were branding his skin. It was fire. Always that spark when Jimmy touched his skin -- and he could count the time. How had that happened? Thomas tried to look as if he was having no problem breathing and looked at Jimmy. 

"I don't want to go out tonight," Jimmy said. 

"Oh," Thomas bit the inside of his cheek to keep his disappointment off his face. 

"Yeah, um, uh… I thought we could just take a walk instead." 

"A walk?" 

"Yeah." Jimmy shrugged.

"I'd…" he swallowed the word he wished to use. "Of course, that sounds fine. I could do with a break from crowds." 

Jimmy nodded.

"Then that's settled," Thomas said, and he held his breath as he waited for Jimmy drop his hand from around Thomas' wrist. Jimmy had been holding it in a tight grasp the whole conversation. With a subtle but definite tug pulling Thomas toward Jimmy. 

Jimmy grinned.

Thomas nodded, and his eyes flicked from Jimmy's mouth to his fingers around Thomas' wrist. He licked his lips, they felt too dry as did his mouth. His heartbeat felt too fast in his chest. He waited, and he felt Jimmy eyes on his face. He glanced up and met his confused gaze. 

"Don't you have to get back?" Jimmy asked.

"If you'd let go, I could." 

"What?" Jimmy's eyes fell to where he was holding onto him. Thomas watched his cheeks go pink and his mouth twisted before he laughed rather nervously and he dropped his hand back to his side. "Sorry," he muttered barely loud enough to be heard. 

"It's not a problem," Thomas allowed the honesty to slip. 

Jimmy's gaze met his again then, and Thomas felt punched by it. Bright and intense eyes looking right at him. Wide open in more than just physical expression. But Thomas didn't understand what he was seeing, and he couldn't get a long enough look because Jimmy looked away. 

"Anyway…" Thomas cleared his throat. "Off I go."

"I'll see you later then, Mr. Barrow."

"Yes," he glanced over his shoulder.

Jimmy grinned at him, cigarette in his mouth and his eyes squinting but they were following Thomas movement. He felt Jimmy's eyes on his back until the door closed behind him and he was inside the house. Thomas stopped and bent over a bit, he felt oddly faint. He was confused. Again. It was beginning an odd habit of Jimmy's. Doing and saying things that baffled Thomas and made voices in his head whisper that he was missing things. He wasn't seeing the whole picture, something was whooshing over his head. But he was powerless to figure out what it could be…

It was just another maddening thing about Jimmy's power over him. He sighed. He would always be on his toes with the man. It was just part and parcel of who Jimmy was Thomas decided. He was maddening and annoying and bloody brilliant and beautiful. 

It was infuriating but it sealed it. Thomas would love him until his last breath. He laughed at himself and let out a small breath as acceptance of that inevitability flowed through him. As annoyance went, it was his favorite one. He took a look back at the closed door and thought about Jimmy out there smoking and wished he could've stayed. But it was time to get back to his duties, so he did, but his mind wandered to that new look in his's blue-blue eyes. Thomas would learn it after all he'd learned quite a bit about Jimmy over the last year.


	29. London Part Six -- A Brush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a bit of writer's something, not really a block, but here is a short little interlude that I managed to punch out just now. Hopefully, next chapter won't be too far behind.

Thomas watched the fire crackle in the fireplace. It was a way to slow his mind after a day of being on his feet, constantly going room to room and making sure the Crawley’s and their guests never noticed anything awry. No everything had to be waiting and ready, just so — as if by magic. If only, he thought, because magic wasn’t real and his body ached. Alfred was gone again for the day, going back to the Ritz for another round of testing. Thomas wondered how much there was to show about if you could cook or not? But if it might get the gangly git out his sight, Thomas would be quite pleased. He was a reminder of O’Brien and all the things he never wanted to think about when it came to her. Nothing was ever simple, he thought and sometimes he wished it could be. A sigh fell from his lips, and he focused on the fire again. His mind wasn’t clearing but what else was new? 

Footsteps made him look up, and Jimmy was standing there. He looked at Thomas, his glance traveling up the length of him as he stood by the doorway. He’d changed out of his livery, and he frowned at Thomas. His gaze on Thomas’ tie and let out a loud sigh. “Aren’t you done yet?”

“It was my turn to be run rugged without Alfred around,” Thomas muttered. “I just sat down for some tea.”

Jimmy shrugged and grabbed a chair, pulling it away from the table and facing the chair Thomas was sat in. He sat down and pushed the cup of tea, Thomas hadn’t touched yet closer to him. “Well, drink it.” 

“Impatient?” 

“Yes, I need to get out of here… was run pretty ragged too, slept awful, I need air.”

“You can start without me…” Thomas offered.

“What no? We’ve got plans….” He shook his head at Thomas like he was daft.

It made Thomas smile, and he stared at Jimmy. He seemed to want to spend all his free time with Thomas. With the exception of their separate duties, they’d been together at all hours since arriving in London. Why was it Jimmy wasn’t bored of seeing his face? Or listening to his voice? Back at Downton Jimmy spent time with the hall boys, with Alfred and on his own. In fact, Jimmy liked his private time as much as Thomas craved it himself. Yet they were together, hours upon hours and Thomas was savoring it. But surely soon enough Jimmy would get tired of him. He would be looking forward to getting back to having his own room and not having to share with Thomas. 

“I won’t be too long, I just need to try to clear my head a bit…it’s all a checklist of duties, like the day, is echoing,” he explained. 

“Echoing? That’s a word for it, annoying when work is all that’s stuck in one's head.”

“Work sticks in your head does it?” Thomas teased.

Jimmy rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers against his thighs. “Come on, let’s get out of here?”

“Go on outside.” He fished in his pockets and was surprised as his fingers touched the metal of his lighter. He pulled it and the box of cigarettes out of his pocket and placed them on the table. 

Ignoring the cigarettes Jimmy picked up the lighter immediately, fiddled with it, flipping it between his fingers. But he made no other movement, and his gaze stayed on Thomas, eyes sparking with impatience. Or was it something else, he watched as Jimmy shifted in his chair. He started tapping the lighter on his thigh instead of his fingers, restless energy waving off of his body. 

“So, staying then…” Thomas was confused. Jimmy looked like he wanted to be outside, he was acting like he needed to be outside. Yet, here he was staying with him. It made little sense, not if Jimmy was feeling stir crazy from being trapped inside. Thomas knew how sometimes being trapped inside, all wrapped up in a stiff livery made Jimmy feel like he couldn’t breathe freely. Made him feel trapped, and he would have to rush outside and pull his collar loose and take deep breathes of fresh air. “‘Cause if you're feeling trapped.”

“Not crawling out of me skin, just want some air…” Jimmy mumbled.

Thomas took a generous sip of his tea and closed his eyes a bit at the familiar taste of it. He felt a bit better for it he thought, and he leaned into the chair. His eyes went to the fire and then to Jimmy. Who was looking right at him, their eyes met, and Thomas knew they did this a lot. Their eyes would meet. Then something would slide down his spine and settle warmly in his belly. Sometimes it was comforting, other times it set his skin afire. This time there was some heat with the comfort, and Thomas found himself smiling. He liked that Jimmy was waiting for him, with him, but it was unnecessary and not all that practical. He tapped his cigarettes with his left hand as he sipped more of his tea. “Go on, smoke a bit while I finish this and change.”

“Do you have too?”

“Finish my tea?” Thomas asked feeling appalled he was being asked such a thing.

“Don’t…I meant change, not the tea.”

“I’m not walking around London in my livery.”

Jimmy sighed but nodded his head. “Yeah, okay…” he reached out, and their fingertips met on the top of the pack of cigarettes. He was always hyperaware of Jimmy, any accidental touch felt like a burn, and now was no different. Thomas allowed himself to blink. To enjoy the sensation for the brief amount of seconds it lasted. But a sharp inhale made his eyes fly open faster to find Jimmy staring at their hands touching. Thomas' throat felt dry as they stayed as they were a beat longer than they should, both of them taking note of the moment. Thomas blinked again, n order to push through and do what he knew he must. He made himself lift his hand and pull it away as Jimmy curled his fingers around the pack and lifted it off the table.

“I won’t be long…” Thomas said afraid to leave it silent that their eyes met and something about Jimmy’s expression made Thomas flit his eyes down, so he was looking at his tea sloshing in the cup because his hands were shaking. 

“Right,” Jimmy coughed. “I’ll get some air.”

Thomas nodded and looked up from his tea in time to see Jimmy disappear into the hallway. He realized he was breathing a moment later, he inhaled some air and then more of his tea, watched the teacup shake as he brought it to his mouth. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to charged moments when he was close to Jimmy, it was all there was when he was near Jimmy. But he lived in that alone. It was his own perceptions and his own feelings. It wasn’t a shared experience. 

Wasn’t it? 

He could hear Jimmy’s gasp still… That shocked intake of air and the way his eyes were focused on how the tips of their fingers were touching. Not even touching, it was a brush, barely skin against skin. It wasn’t even a touch, not really, but it’d come with a jolt. 

One Jimmy felt too?

Thomas closed his, shook his head and told himself to stop being daft. It was nothing if anything he’d made a noise and brought attention to it. Jimmy noticed Thomas’ reaction and because of that had reacted himself. It wouldn’t be the first time Jimmy caught Thomas' feelings showing themselves. And like all those other times, they wouldn’t speak about it…

It was just better that way.


	30. London Part Six -- Different

Thomas walked, head a bit down against the wind, umbrella thumping against his leg, quickly grabbed in case they found themselves in another rainstorm. But the sky seemed clear over their heads, stars glittering but not brightly as they might back in Downton Village. Thomas liked the sound of their footsteps. Jimmy a half step ahead of him, his own following him. It sounded like them, and Thomas sighed inwardly at the thought. His mind took weird turns sometimes, especially around Jimmy. He bent his head down a bit more as they turned into the wind. It felt refreshing against his face, it smelled like the incoming spring. The promise of something new. He smiled a bit and glanced toward Jimmy. His head was bent down, his hair flopping over his eyes, curls looking like they might furl right into his eyes. He looked determined and anxious, and Thomas wondered if he had a destination in mind. He invited Thomas on a walk, which sounded like a leisurely thing but Jimmy was walking with his usual impatience.

He made a sudden turn and Thomas picked up his pace, to keep up, to stay that half step behind him. To keep himself next to Jimmy. They moved off the walkway and onto the grass, Jimmy walking up to a fountain that was in the center of a small green. He looked around and nodded to himself and walked up to a tree and leaned his back against it and faced Thomas with a strange smile on his face. 

Thomas nodded in return and eyed the tree. Decided it was big enough for the two of them, he took position next to Jimmy, a bit on the curve of the tree and let his weight settle and his limbs relaxed. They’d walked for quite long time, and it’d been nice to stretch his legs, but this was nicer. Staying still was nice, especially knowing no one would interrupt them to force them back to work. It was made better by nice weather and the company. He glanced at Jimmy and saw he tilted his head up to look at the sky. Probably at the stars and he wondered if he was thinking about his mother. Thomas turned his face upward and toward the stars. They were the same stars as back home, but they felt different here. 

He heard fabric rustling and glanced back at Jimmy in time to watch him put two cigarettes in his mouth. Held between his plush lips as he lit them with a graceful motion. Jimmy reached up and pulled one free and offered it Thomas with a glance. He took it his eyes falling on the end that been in Jimmy's mouth, he licked his lips and found his eyes back on Jimmy. On his mouth just as he parted his lips to pull the cigarette away from them. He’s dry mouthed and distracted. 

“Do you ever get bored?” 

“No,” he said caught up in watching Jimmy’s mouth. But then the wind hit his face, and he blinked. “Wait? What?”

“Do you ever get bored?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yeah… guess so…” Jimmy looked back up at the sky.

Thomas studied his profile, it was second nature, but he was busy noticing new things. There was a slightly different clench of his jaw, his brow was furrowed more tightly, and energy was thrumming through Jimmy. His free hand was tapping against his side in some sort of nervous beat, and Thomas flashed back to the servant’s hall. Jimmy impatient to get outside, his fingers against his thighs and his impatience loud. Only this was the same song, and they were outside, the wind was soft and bracing, the night was clear and the world wasn’t too busy around them. Jimmy found them a quiet corner in the rush of the city, helped by the late hour and Thomas glanced around them and realized they were rather alone. He could hear cars, a sound he found he still wasn’t used too, but he couldn’t see them. 

“It’s just…” Jimmy turned to face him.

Thomas met his gaze but remained silent, he wouldn’t need to press him to talk, Jimmy once he decided to say something would say it. 

“It’s just… I’m used to it. Boredom. It was always there, crowding my mind and making the walls close in. I just always want something to happen, anything out of the norm…because there has to be more to life than ringing bells and measuring out the distance between forks. I’d come up with crazy fantasies. Usually, all of them ended up with me leaving and going off to make my own fun.” 

Thomas stopped lifting his cigarette to his mouth and averted his gaze away from Jimmy’s face and onto the bark of the tree. The question was in his mind, but he couldn’t get to his tongue. He thought he should ask it, though, to better prepare himself. Maybe this trip to London was reminding Jimmy of what he really wanted. And it wasn’t staying put in Downton living the boring day of a footman. Thomas couldn’t fault him, Thomas craved leaving once, he been so sure he’d found his way out for a brief, amazing moment. But it all fell apart like so many of his grand plans. But Jimmy was different; Jimmy was luckier than him…Jimmy could make it, and Thomas would hate it, but he wouldn’t be jealous. Not of him.

“If you want to leave…” somehow he choked out the words.

Jimmy startled, his eyes grew round, and he stepped backward like Thomas had pushed him. “What?”

“I mean if you want too… you should, that is all… Don’t let me keep you.”

Jimmy wide-eyed stare slowly turned to a glare, his jaw clenched and a familiar scowl formed. He huffed out a breath. “You don’t understand.”

“Wanting to leave?” Thomas laughed. “Of course I do.”

“No, no, you don’t understand at all, Thomas. Not at all,” Jimmy laughed. 

“All I’m trying to say is you talked yourself onto that stage the other night… You have options that I don’t have. Alfred has that daft cooking opportunity, and you have your music…”

“That’s the thing…” Jimmy sighed. 

“What?”

“They told me to come play anytime, they implied…” Jimmy sighed. “I heard it, I saw it in their faces. I had them charmed.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t breathing. He was losing him. It’d already happened.

“I said no.” 

“I guess you’ll be telling Carson… what?”

“I said no.” Jimmy moved closer, his shoulder hitting Thomas’ and leaned against the tree again. “I said no.”

“But…” Thomas felt like he was falling because it made no sense.

“Yeah.” Jimmy shrugged. 

“But?”

Jimmy closed his eyes. “The thing is… I used to be bored and have those fantasies and last night matched a few of them. But it wasn’t the same in reality. Reality…reality was different.”

“How?” Thomas asked.

“I thought, I thought about changing our plans. All day. Going back there, playing again, they invited me back — anytime while you’re still here they said.” 

“You should…”

“Maybe, maybe if I get my head straight before we head back home.”

“Jimmy, London could be your home,” Thomas said, and he felt like he ripped his own heart out but… This was Jimmy. This was what he wanted. Wasn’t it?

“No, it couldn’t,” Jimmy said.

“Why not? You could be playing the piano, that piano, you said how amazing it was…”

“But it’s not…” Jimmy turned again and looked right at him. “I don’t get bored anymore. Not like that anyway, my ruminations are different, I’m different…” he huffed out a breath and stepped closer. “I’m different.” 

“No, you’re not…” Thomas stared at him because he was Jimmy. He was always Jimmy. 

“Aren’t I?”

“Maybe I’m not sure what you mean?” Thomas admitted. “Because I don’t understand why you’re turning it down, Jimmy. You’ve always wanted more and better for yourself.”

Jimmy grinned and nodded. “Right? It’s strange, isn’t it… but I don’t… It’s almost like I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

Jimmy caught his gaze and Thomas held his breath. Jimmy held it, he stared, and his eyes changed expressions from something uncertain to something softer and clearer. Thomas felt the sound of his heart in his ears, and he thought he should look away, he should look away because it felt like too much. Jimmy staring at him with that face of his and that soft look behind his eyes. He wanted to understand it and maybe if he kept looking he would but his heart was loud, and his palms felt sweaty. It was too hard to look at Jimmy when he was like this and especially when he wasn’t even making sense. He ducked his head down, his eyes falling to Jimmy’s chest and he flexed his fingers resisting the urge to clutch onto his suit. 

“I wish you wouldn’t…” Jimmy’s voice was a sad whisper. 

“You should go…” Thomas managed to say again because he felt he should. 

“Why?”

“Jimmy it’s music, fun…. Women.”

Jimmy laughed. “You don’t… you want me to go?” he asked, and his voice seemed oddly small.

“Never,” flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. 

“Good… then stop telling me to.” 

“But…” 

“What?”

“Wouldn’t a friend tell you do what you want?”

“But that’ the thing, it’s not what I want.”

“Since when?”

“Guess that’s what I’m still trying to figure out… It’s just. I’m different, Thomas. I changed.” 

“You seem the same.”

“You don’t see me clearly.”

“I see you,” Thomas argued, and his eyes returned to Jimmy’s face.

He gave Thomas a small smile. “Guess it’s why I can tell you… I’m not so bored anymore. And I can’t leave Downton.”

“Are you sure?”

Jimmy nodded but then he turned away, sliding against the tree, gifting Thomas with his profile and he looked up the sky. “Bit afraid of how sure I am.”

“Afraid?”

Jimmy nodded. “I’ll tell you someday.”

“Will you?” Thomas asked. “Because I’m not sure I have a clue what we’re discussing.”

“You don’t,” Jimmy said, and he laughed. “Clever Thomas, you have no idea.” 

“But you’ll tell me?”

“Someday….once I’m sure.” 

“I thought you were.”

“About that, yeah… I don’t need those dreams anymore, I have different ones.”

“Oh?” Thomas smiled feeling curious. “Care to share?”

Jimmy laughed again. “It was… the fair.”

“The fair?”

“That’s when it started… me changing,” Jimmy looked at him. “It was that day, Thomas. That very day.”

“Jimmy?” Thomas shook his head.

Jimmy gave him a brilliant smile. 

His mouth twitched into one, and they locked gazes until the rush of feelings crowded in on Thomas again, starting when he thought maybe Jimmy was blushing but that couldn’t be true… Thomas sighed and looked away. 

“Thomas,” Jimmy’s voice was a soft whisper, but then he coughed. “We should head back.”

Thomas laughed and risked looking up. “Responsible actions rearing their head two nights in a row…”

Jimmy scowled. “Shut up… it’s just it’s a long walk.” 

“No, I’m starting to see it now, you have changed,” Thomas teased.

Jimmy bumped into him a bit harder than necessary and took that half step ahead of Thomas. Thomas laughed and fell behind and he followed Jimmy. His heart was hammering, it never stopped and he was shaking because he couldn’t get the thought out of his head that Jimmy wouldn’t be leaving —not when he been gifted the chance to have some of his wishes be granted. Instead, it felt like Thomas was getting a wished granted and that made everything seem louder and brighter around him. He never got his wishes granted. But Jimmy was choosing to stay, and Thomas hadn’t a clue as to why but he was thankful. A smile formed on his face and by the time they reached Grantham Hall his cheeks hurt.


	31. London Part Eight -- Last Dance

Thomas’s head swiveled near all the way around, and he stumbled a bit on his feet. His dance partner made a slight squeak as he recovered and set them about back into fluid movements to the music. He gave her an apologetic smile and pretended to have not noticed her blush, likely finding her squeak undignified and sought out Jimmy. He must have been seeing things, Thomas thought because it didn’t make sense at all, but then he found him. It was always easy to find Jimmy. He stood out, and he was the best dancer on the floor, but there was something decidedly off about how he was dancing at the moment. 

His partner was leading. It was the blonde who they’d both danced more than once in the past week. She was quite good and seemed to prefer them to her usual partners. Telling Thomas, it was often to come across two dancers with such natural grace and appreciation for the music. Also, he got the feeling she was quite happy not be flirted with when she was in his arms. In fact, all his partners it seemed fell into that category. The ones who made eyes at him never came back, and it was quite a relief. He had never gotten her name but she never asked for his either. He blinked a few times, thinking maybe if he did she and Jimmy would be dancing the appropriate way.

But they weren’t. She was clearly leading him and quite well. Jimmy was in her arms, and that sent a violent burst of jealousy inside of his chest. He gritted his teeth. He wondered why the hell it was different really, he’d been watching Jimmy dance with woman after woman. He’d only felt jealousy the first night because it seemed the same women who were dancing with him were dancing with Jimmy. He wasn’t sure why it was Jimmy wasn’t flirting, but that was even easier to understand than what he was seeing now. What were they playing at? Why? And why hadn’t anyone else seemed to notice? A voice in his head pointed out that he noticed every minute detail about Jimmy Kent and maybe the rest of the Blue Dragon’s patrons weren’t clever enough to realize they should too…

That was daft. Everyone should stare at Jimmy, Thomas thought, and he’d seen him, turning heads, all the time. But no, no one was paying him and the blonde any attention at all. He was the only one watching the woman lead Jimmy about as if it was something they did all the time, it looked natural and fun, and he felt his own arms ache with the wish to do it himself. 

He blinked his eyes stung and his face heated from the twisting emotions and his feet fell to stop. His dance partner glared at him, and he muttered an apology and walked away from her and toward the bar. He knew it was quite rude, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt overheated and uncomfortable. He wanted to push away the jealousy that risen up. He could taste it in the back of his throat, and he had no right to it. Never stopped it from happening, he thought, and he wished he would. He leaned his hands against the bar and asked for ice water. It got him a strange look but soon enough a glass was in front of him, and he swallowed down gulps of the cold liquid and willed it too cool his cheeks. 

“Thomas?”

Jimmy’s voice startled him. He turned to see Jimmy falling to stop next to him, catching his breath, his brow furrowed as he looked at him with concern. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he said too quickly and it sounded like a lie.

Jimmy's eyebrows shot up, and he scowled. “You can lie better than that.”

“I can…” Thomas laughed. 

“Care to try to? Or tell me the truth? What you escape the dance floor like that for?”

Thomas focused back on his glass of water. He gulped down what was left of it and put it down on the bar. He glared at the ice and willed it to melt because he was thirsty, his body was hot, and he knew his face must be flushed. The image of Jimmy in his arms crashed into his brain again, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek and wondered if he could ever banish it now that it’d manifested. 

“Thomas?” Jimmy was closer, his voice lower and he was forcing Thomas to meet his gaze. None of this helped, Thomas thought but he was powerless to stop it. 

“What were you doing?” he accused.

“Doing?” Jimmy asked.

“On the dance floor…”

“Dancing?” Jimmy’s expression was pure confusion.

“Don’t be stupid, it doesn’t suit you,” Thomas snapped irritated. Why was he being obtuse?

“I don’t know…”

“You weren’t just dancing, were you…” Thomas whispered harshly.

“I wasn’t….OH.” Thomas watched realization darken Jimmy’s eyes and his cheeks. He felt an odd twist of triumph he wasn’t the only one flushed now, though their reasons were all too different and that cut at him inside. He picked up his glass and popped a few chunks of ice into his mouth. 

“What are you doing?” Thomas asked again.

“Can we not discuss that here,” Jimmy hissed. 

“We're doing it here,” Thomas snapped.

“No one noticed but you… of course,” Jimmy sighed.

“Yes, I noticed and I probably wasn’t the only bloody one.”

“Why are you so out of sorts?” Jimmy snapped at him. “Was just…”

“Just what?” Thomas accused. 

“I just…” Jimmy stammered, and then his hand shot out and grabbed Thomas’ glass, and he swallowed down some of the ice. Not at all helping Thomas’ situation as he watched his throat work and he wondered, not for the first time if Jimmy might just strike him dead. 

“I could order you your own,” Thomas sniped. 

Jimmy slammed the glass on the bar, both of them stiffened at the sound of it and Thomas half expected it to break. When he didn’t, he blinked at it but was quickly distracted by Jimmy’s hand around his forearm. Before he knew it, he was being dragged through the crowd and toward a door. They stepped out into the alley between the Blue Dragon and the building next to it. It was empty and thankfully it wasn’t raining since their jackets and umbrellas were still checked inside. 

“I was just trying it out,” Jimmy’s voice sounded loud in the alley. 

“What?” 

“I just thought…” Jimmy shrugged. “I wanted to try it out.”

“How does that come about?” Thomas asked.

“Haven’t you wondered?”

“About what exactly?”

“What it might be like to have….” Jimmy abruptly stopped talking. “I mean what it would be like to be led, instead of leading… I mean haven’t you thought about that?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Why would I?”

“Because…” Jimmy stared at him.

Thomas met his gaze and stared back feeling absolutely confused. 

“Thinking about it, maybe it makes sense you haven’t, I’m pretty sure that…” Jimmy abruptly stopped talking again.

“Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Stopping whatever it is you were going to say.”

Jimmy bit his lower lip and sighed. “Haven’t you thought about dancing with a man?”

 _Not until you._

“No?” Jimmy pressed.

Thomas sighed. “Not until I saw you… what does this have to do with anything?”

“Oh.” Jimmy’s cheeks went red again, and he looked up the sky. “The one time it’s not raining this week.” 

“Jimmy?”

“I was wondering that’s all, what it might be like to be on the opposite side.”

“Why would you wonder that?”

“Why do I wonder anything….” Jimmy muttered. 

Thomas sighed. “And?”

“What?”

“What was it like?”

“Easy….” Jimmy said with a laugh. “Fun. Though, I mean June is a great dancer so…”

“She’s led before?”

“Yes, actually. She and her girlfriends practice dancing that way, with each other. She said it’s a shame boys don’t, most men could use the lessons.”

Thomas started laughing. 

“I guess an experienced dancer did help the experiment.” 

“The experiment,” Thomas shook his head but his mind was lighter, and his chest felt less restricted. This was Jimmy being… Jimmy. Odd and chaotic and just doing what he pleased without any thought to what it may look like and do to others around them. His heart was still fast, and he still felt weird. , want to take Jimmy in his arms and spin him around a room wasn’t fading, it wouldn’t matter he realized. It was a new thing to get used too, a new urge to learn to live with never satisfying. He closed his eyes for a moment and fought back a sigh. 

“Would you…”

His eyes opened and met Jimmy’s. They were a dark blue and full of curiosity. 

“Would you dance with…” he coughed. “If you could, you know?”

“A man?”

“Yeah.”

“The right one,” Thomas whispered. 

Jimmy smiled wide and brilliant. 

Dead. He would strike him dead someday, Thomas thought. 

~~~

Their fingers kept nearly meeting. They were walking much too close to the other, but Thomas couldn’t bring himself to create any distance. Not when their fingertips kept nearly colliding, were, in fact, a time or two actually touching. A whisper of one that was there and gone before the sensation settled into something known. 

They were walking home. After dancing a bit more, both of them with June, the only one willing to dance with Thomas after his behavior earlier. Abruptly ending a dance was the greater faux pas it seemed than allowing a woman to lead you — though it truly seemed he was the only one to notice Jimmy’s odd experiment. It could have caused quite a stir, it could have caused a lot of chaos Thomas thought — and the more impertinent part of his personality was a little sad it hadn’t. 

But he was still buzzing with a strange energy from it. From the need to hold Jimmy like that and dance with him. Perhaps to one of Jimmy’s favorite songs. He would sing the words, Thomas thought. Low and under his breath so only Thomas could hear. They wouldn’t need any outside music, he thought, Jimmy would offer them the melody, and they move in its rhythm. Thomas holding Jimmy around his waist, pressing him toward him and his arms and hands would shake in ways they never would with a woman. He’d probably a mess of he thought, his throat feeling choked up with nerves at the mere thought of the moment. 

Their fingertips brushed and pulled Thomas back into the moment. He glanced to his left, at Jimmy. He was smoking, cigarette held up to that mouth of his, held between long graceful fingers. The fingertips of his other hand teased Thomas’ hand again, and he looked down them. At their hands, moving side to side as they walked, fingertips close but not quite close enough. He cleared his throat as it happened and Jimmy’s head turned toward him. Their eyes met, and their fingers touched for the tiniest of seconds. 

Jimmy smirked. 

Thomas felt his heart melt, his eyes were trapped by Jimmy’s. He stared at him, longer than he should, taking in his dimples and the odd blush on his cheeks. Watching the cigarette rise up to those lips, still upturned in a smirk, call cocksure and annoyingly beautiful. Thomas felt his cheeks heat, and he forced his eyes away from Jimmy.

“Wish you wouldn’t look away.” It was the softest of whispers, more a mumble or a muttering. And Thomas nearly stopped breathing, but everything else remained the same. Jimmy was walking beside him just as before, their fingertips touching. He must have misheard, he must have made it up in his head. He was knocked all around from earlier events. That hadn’t been said, Jimmy hadn’t said any such thing. But his heart was wild in his chest again, images of them dancing and Jimmy singing, saying things he never would…

His imagination was getting away from him. Thomas took a calming breath. Their fingertips touched, and it was grounding. This. This was enough.


	32. The Only Thing

They were leaving London. It felt too soon to Thomas. It had been a fortnight, however, fourteen days. It felt both longer and shorter. He realized his usual homesickness for his own room, for the cozier servant’s hall of the Abbey, and the daily rituals a mundane day over the hubbub of traveling never manifested during this visit. He found himself not wanting to leave, a sensation he hadn’t felt since the spring he met Philip. That spring he felt like he was leaving something behind and he couldn’t help but feel that way again. He glanced across their room — his and Jimmy’s — and his eyes fell on him. 

He stood with his back to Thomas. He was organizing his luggage for the next morning. Wearing nothing but a thin white vest that was too tight across his back and blue pajama bottoms. Thomas couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of him. The expanse of his back and the shape of his arms, the curve of his arse. He held back a sigh. It was torture in a way but it’d been a blessing to be able to see Jimmy like this for longer than a few brief minutes before they went to their separate rooms back home. He thought he might have trouble sleeping without the sound of Jimmy breathing across the room. 

It was more than the shared room he would miss though — it was the freedom they’d been granted and all the time spent together outside of Grantham House. Neither of them in buttoned-up liveries, doing as they pleased in dance halls and card clubs. Drinking and walking in the rain. Thomas had felt there was a spell surrounding their discussions felt weighted and different. It was something he just couldn’t quite grasp onto, but he’d ended every night smiling so deeply he couldn’t stop. It was London he supposed. Being away. Being able to escape in ways they never could back home. He frowned as he thought about their return home. No more nightly jaunts, no more dance clubs and no more talking to Jimmy until the sun threatened to rise. 

Thomas felt himself missing Jimmy. 

“Have you seen my other braces?”

Thomas rolled his eyes at himself and got off of his bed, glancing around the room. They were on a chair near Thomas’ own valise, already organized, sitting open and waiting for him to finish his packing in the morning. He picked them up, crossed the space between them and handed them over. Jimmy flashed him a grin that was all teeth as he took them before going back to his packing. Thomas stayed where he stood and enjoyed Jimmy’s profile and what he could see of his chest, the thin fabric as tight over it as it was his back. He didn’t dare do it for too long, standing so close his eyes fell onto the bed. His saw the journal by the pillows, a bookmark poking out a bit halfway through the book.

“You’ve written that much?” he asked.

“What?” Jimmy looked at him.

Thomas indicated the journal a tilt of his head.

“Oh…” Jimmy’s cheeks went pink and looked down, fussing with things he’d already righted in this case. “Just… can’t stop once I start,” he mumbled.

“Just happy you're getting use out of it…” Thomas said inwardly cringing, feeling he made things awkward. Jimmy didn’t want to talk about his writing and as curious as he was Thomas was trying to respect it. But he’d spent the last fourteen days watching Jimmy write in it before he turned off the light. He wondered if he wrote about their conversations, if he wrote about him at all, or was it all attempts at poetry. The truth was Thomas missed the snippets of words he used to find. He liked seeing how Jimmy tried to string his thoughts together in words. He wanted to puzzle out the bigger picture from the fragments. 

“How did….” Jimmy shook his head as he stopped mid-sentence.

“What?”

Jimmy shook his head, closed his case and put it on the bureau in the room, popping it back open to leave it waiting like Thomas’. “Nothing,” he muttered in a strange tone.

“Jimmy, what?” Thomas pressed. 

Turning toward Thomas Jimmy met his eyes. Thomas felt trapped by them, he always did, but it never stopped him from enjoying locking gazes with him. He stared for as long as he dared. For as long as he could stand it. Everything fell silent, and he could see Jimmy considering what he wanted to say. Thomas waited for him to speak, certain that he would if Thomas gave him the breathing room.

“You knew… I mean you know…” Jimmy blushed and bent down his head, his hand going to the back of his neck. “What made you know, that’d I like it… a journal?”

Now he was on the spot. Thomas opened his mouth and closed it again and found himself putting his hand on his neck and facing down unable to look at Jimmy. He thought quickly, looking for a plausible and for the first time in his life he couldn’t find one. Nothing was coming to him but the truth and somehow given that the topic was Jimmy it didn’t surprise him. He sighed and lifted his head back up, and Jimmy was watching him with a lopsided smile. Which made his eyes widen and Jimmy’s cheeks went pink again, and he seemed to straighten his posture. 

“I was just… wondering.”

“I, well, honestly, I saw a few of the pieces of paper you kept leaving in the books you’ve borrowed.”

Jimmy’s blush deepened, but he laughed, nervously but genuinely. “Yeah, I kind of… yeah, I figured you weren’t buying my story about the bookmark.” 

“No,” Thomas chuckled. 

“Um…” Jimmy’s gaze shifted into something serious. “Did you read them?”

“Curious sort aren’t I?”

“Nosy, gossipy, a bit yeah…” Jimmy joked.

“I read them.”

Jimmy nodded his expression falling back into seriousness. “It’s daft isn’t it?” 

“What?”

“Me? Trying to write….?”

“What?”

“It’s all bloody nonsense, innit?”

“No.” Thomas winced at how loud he sounded, and Jimmy mirrored it as his eyes widened. “I mean… I liked it.”

Somehow Jimmy turned redder, and he turned away from Thomas. “What? Those scribbles you saw? Half-formed daft thoughts…”

“Didn’t seem like it, seemed like it was something — I don’t know what, but whatever it was you were writing about. Could tell you cared.”

Nervous laughter filled the room, and Jimmy looked up but avoided his eyes. “Confusion really, what it all is… confusion and trying to make the thoughts in my head make sense. Don’t think I make sense at all though, I just…. Don’t. I don’t make sense at all.”

Thomas shook his head. 

“I don’t, Thomas… I want…” Jimmy stopped abruptly and shook his head. “I just I’ve changed and sometimes. Sometimes I'm fine with it, sometimes it feels more real than anything. But then something happens, and I wonder if that’s true at all. Everything keeps shifting, and I’m trying to hold onto the things that aren’t…it’s just…” he trailed off, and his eyes met Thomas’ again. 

Thomas felt himself lurch forward a step as their eyes met. He saw fear, confusion and a vulnerability he never seen before from Jimmy. He stopped his hands from flying up. His palms wanted to be on Jimmy’s shoulders, it felt they belonged there, but he didn’t dare touch him. He looked like he might be easily spooked and Thomas wanted to understand, and that meant he wanted him to talk talking. “Jimmy?” he whispered.

“Thomas…” it was a breath. “I…” Jimmy swallowed. “The one thing that never changes is…terrifying.”

“How? What?” Thomas stammered his mind fighting to understand, but he couldn’t read Jimmy’s expression. 

Jimmy laughed and shook his head. “It’s. Never mind.”

“No…” Thomas hand shout out and grabbed Jimmy’s upper arm, wrapped around his bicep, his palm against warm skin, and he felt the contact deep in his bones. Jimmy stilled but didn’t stiffen, and his eyes fell to their contact point before sliding closed. “Jimmy?”

“It’s okay,” Jimmy said a moment later eyes open. “I know I’m not making sense.”

Thomas sighed but nodded. “I know I’m not one people trust…”

“I trust you,” Jimmy said, quickly. “I do.”

“Okay…” Thomas nodded and let go of him. 

“I just mean it, you know?”

Thomas met his eyes confused.

“I do really appreciate the journal.” 

Thomas laughed. 

“I just… want to sleep?” Jimmy muttered.

“You don’t need my permission.” 

“No… yeah,” Jimmy looked around the room and frowned. “I’m going to miss this.”

“What?”

“Us, sharing, you know?”

Thomas nodded and swallowed his me too for some reason he thought it might sound too loud in the quiet that settled over the room. He watched Jimmy turn and start to get into his bed. He turned and followed suit, his hand reaching out for the light… 

“Are you going to write?”

“Not tonight…” Jimmy said.

Thomas nodded and switched the light off.


	33. I Don't Know

Thomas found his way to the little space in the woods Jimmy discovered shortly before the trip to London. He expected to find him there, writing and smoking but the rock was empty. The place was empty, and so he sat down on the rock himself. Situating himself the way he'd seen Jimmy do — it wasn’t the most comfortable. Rocks weren’t known for the comfort but there was something about it. The trees rustled around him, buds turning to leaves on their branches. It was truly spring now. Soon everything would be green and blue and bright when the sun was out — he craved those rare occasions more than he let on. As much as he loved a good downpour, the dreary drizzly days did get to him sometimes. Everything gray and watery and boring. He liked bright things, it was one of his secrets, and it was he loved Jimmy. The brightest thing in the world, he thought, his Jimmy.

His. Thomas shook himself for such foolishness, but he was thinking it more and more often. It happened during the nights in London. He kept finding himself thinking more and more of Jimmy as his… It was based off romantic notions, on how they seemed to have gotten even closer — if that was possible. But he never had a friend as close to him as Jimmy was — it was new and beautiful and not enough. But it could be, he told himself, as long as he didn’t let himself get up on the notion of Jimmy being his. 

As lovely as it was…. He watched the path where Jimmy would appear and lit cigarette. He was maybe running late. They’d just returned from the trip a few days ago, and Alfred was gone now — off to the Ritz and being a cook. Envy rolled down Thomas spine that out of all the people Alfred got out, that Alfred escaped Downton Abbey when he never could. It could be worse though. He reminded himself, it could have been Jimmy. That could still happen, despite Jimmy words about how he thought less and less of escaping Downton. Thomas wasn’t sure he believed that, because what would keep Jimmy here? He was bound to no one, he owed no one, and he had the means to escape. He could find a way to make his music his life, Thomas was sure of it. Jimmy was golden he could always land on his feet, like a clever cat and get all he dreamed. 

He would vanish one day, into the light, it’d be so bright Thomas would lose sight of him. That was a horrid thought, he puffed on his cigarette and realized it was nearly finished. No sight of Jimmy, his mind wondered and pictured Jimmy rushing off, running away toward the light and a better life. One without Thomas. 

His mood soured. He snuffed out his cigarette and made his way back inside. 

~~~

Not once during the rest of the day did he see Jimmy. His mood got worse and worse. Had his own imagination sent Jimmy off? He knew he was being irrational, and he knew there must be an explanation for his absence but he couldn’t find it in him to figure out what it could be. 

London had been near perfect. All that time together. They’d touched shoulders, and they’d danced side by side if not together — though Thomas thought about it, thought about holding Jimmy in his arms and the reasons were mostly Jimmy’s fault. The daft things he kept saying, almost alluding to them…

London had been like a dream and it was time to remember reality. Thomas kept his bad mood. He snapped at everyone that spoke with him and got himself a lot looks and a snappish reply back from Anna about not biting her hand off — and maybe usually he might be slightly chastised by that, though he never showed it, today he didn’t care. 

He needed to remember he’d be alone. 

He walked into his room, after a quick bath, and looked around the room. One bed. It wasn’t the first night back, and he’d been right. He’d gotten to used to Jimmy’s presence beside him. His breath in the room and the occasional snore. He’d gotten used to watching him write in the journal, the scratch of the pencil and Jimmy’s occasional grunt of frustration or breath of satisfaction. Thomas had loved watching him write, brow furrowed, the hint of a smile when it was going well. 

He sat on his bed and lamented that they couldn’t bunk together here. That was when his door flew open, and Jimmy walked in. Dressed for bed himself, his hair flopping over his eyes and looking exhausted. Thomas stared up at him and drank it in, the irrational thoughts of never seeing Jimmy again being shown for what they were — silly notions brought on by his pessimistic imagination. It’d been easier than the hope that thinking about London gave him…

“Carson sent me to bloody York on errands, and I nearly missed the train back… You’d think he could've done half of them while we were in London, but no. I had to trek the whole damn day from one store to another… the list was bloody endless. Why couldn’t he have sent Molesley? Or you…” Jimmy laughed. 

Thomas chuckled. “He had me running up and down the stairs all day. Shoulders are bloody killing me.”

Jimmy shut the door behind him and sat down next to Thomas on his bed. “I couldn’t sleep last night, or the night before,” he yawned.

“No?”

“No… Got used to you, kept waking up wondering where you were. It’s not like you even breath that loud or snore. But it was all too quiet. Is that weird?”  
“I…” Thomas stammered because was it? It didn’t feel weird to him, he missed Jimmy. He missed everything about sharing a room with him. It would be the closest he ever had Jimmy in his bed. “Don’t think so…” he finished his thought with a mumble. 

“Yeah?” Jimmy’s mouth twitched up, and he looked away from him. “I couldn’t even have a cigarette earlier because for some odd reason I don’t have your lighter.”

“You never stole it back from last night.”

“We stayed up too late…” Jimmy shook his head and leaned over Thomas to reach for the lighter and pack of cigarettes on his night table. 

“Not as late as in London.”

“Yeah, funny though, felt rested in London despite the fact we barely got any sleep.”

“Power of a vacation.”

“That was a vacation?”

“For the like of us,” Thomas said.

“Bloody suppose so…. Like a real vacation though. No duties, no Carson or his Lordship. Just time to walk and play, and be with…” Jimmy's mouth clicked shut. “I miss London.”

“Only been a few days,” Thomas hedged, afraid to admit out loud how much he missed London. They’d be outside right now in London, they’d be alone with the night surrounding them in that weighty bubble, connecting in ways Thomas never dreamed of… 

“So? Don’t think missing things really has rhyme or reason, you know?”

“No.”

“Want one?” Jimmy offered Thomas his own cigarettes.

“I’m good.”

“Really?” Jimmy lit his and leaned over Thomas again. Thomas inhaled deeply and nearly tasted the summer scent of Jimmy, along with soap and pomade, which had him eyeing Jimmy’s loose hair and his fingers itched to push it off his forehead. The curls shaded his eyes, and Thomas wasn’t a clearer path to him, so blue and clear, and behind them Jimmy was always thinking. 

Jimmy brought the cigarette to his mouth, and Thomas watched entranced. He was blinded again and trapped. Jimmy was looking right at him too, his cheeks seemed to flush a light shade of pink. He watched Jimmy’s mouth part and close for the cigarette. Things were quiet, almost too quiet and it brought Thomas back to their walks in London. It felt so close to that but it wasn’t, it couldn’t be — they were in Downton Abbey. 

“It’s late…” he mumbled not wanting too, and he looked away. 

“Oh…” Jimmy sighed, but it turned into a yawn. “Guess you’re right. What else is new,” he chuckled but he didn’t move. 

Thomas nodded as he looked away from Jimmy. Afraid of staring at him again, afraid of not being able to stop and really he needed to rescue himself. He tapped his hands on his thighs and waited out Jimmy. 

But Jimmy wasn’t in a hurry. He slowly finished the cigarette and Thomas felt his eyes on the side of his face. He was being looked at, and it made his cheeks flush what he hoped was pink and not red. He was confused by this, by Jimmy’s looks but he couldn’t ask what it meant because it probably meant nothing more than Jimmy was procrastinating going to bed, to procrastinate facing yet another day of dull service. 

Jimmy leaned over him for the third time. Thomas bit his lip and wanted not to inhale, wanted not to feel the body heat of him. Wanted his hands to not curl into themselves to stop the urge to touch his back when it was under his nose. Jimmy snuffed out what was left of his cigarette in the pewter ashtray Thomas owned and leaned back. He stayed twisted though into Thomas side, and he inhaled sharply, capturing Thomas’ attention. He turned to face him and got trapped in an intense stare. Jimmy’s eyes were darker than usual, almost black and his expression was intense and different. 

“I should go,” he said but Thomas didn’t believe him, and he wanted to shake his head no, but instead he nodded in the affirmative. Jimmy sighed, audibly and the disappointment shocked Thomas. Jimmy sighed again and stood up. He walked to the door, hand on the knob and turned to face Thomas again. 

“I don’t…” Jimmy stammered.

“What?” Thomas asked feeling very perplexed. 

“No, yeah I don’t know…” Jimmy laughed, but it didn’t sound like one. “I really don’t know. Good night, Thomas.”

“Good night, Jimmy.”


	34. You

The sunlight hurt his eyes as Thomas stepped outside, warmth hitting his face and made him dread the coming warmer days which would make his livery unbearable. But the warmth was nice now, it wasn’t too much, it had that just right feel that made everything feel oddly comfortable. Spring was here, but this type of weather was short-lived, and the bright blue sky above him felt like an anomaly. It’d rained nearly every day since they returned from London, except for this week but the temperatures been chillier. Today wasn’t though, it was nice, and Thomas was positive that meant Jimmy was outside and lazing in the sun. 

He lit a cigarette, with matches, and made his way down the path, toward the cottages but he saw the tree that marked the way to Jimmy’s found hidey-hole. He pushed through and found the sort of makeshift path — it looked like Jimmy had done some landscaping to make it clearer. Something about that made Thomas shake his head fondly. He heard him before he saw him. It was the hum of a song that he recognized from their nights in London. He stepped forward slowly, listening to the melody and wondering why Jimmy wasn’t singing it full out. 

He stepped clear of a few branches and stopped still. The reason Jimmy wasn’t singing evident. He was sitting on the rock, leaning against the tree, his legs bent in front of him, propping up the journal — which was nearly full, Thomas remembered, and he needed to do something about that… But he was distracted as Jimmy’s brows furrowed and his hum grew deeper. He watched him, bite at the end of his pencil before pressing it back against the paper. His hand moving so swiftly against the page Thomas wondered if he would be able to make out the words later. He leaned a bit against a nearby tree and lazily smoked his cigarette and watched Jimmy write. 

There was something about his face when he was like this… It was soft in a way that Jimmy never was otherwise. He was usually all scowls or smug grins. His eyes were always looking out for who was watching him, and then he'd give them something to watch him for. He was loud and always seeking attention, and it was easy to see why so many discounted him as the pretty-faced charmer. But he was more than that, and this was just more proof. Thomas loved that he was the only one knew, who knew all about the clever thoughts that rolled around in Jimmy’s brain and knew that he liked to try to put some of them word onto paper. 

He wished he knew more though, what the words were, what clever things he was expanding on and just how it was he already nearly filled a book with them. He could taste his curious in the smoke on his tongue, and he watched Jimmy’s hand stop as he went to turn a page…. 

He stopped mid-action and Thomas met dark blue eyes with his gray ones. 

“Thought I felt you there…”

“If you did why are surprised.”

“Thought it was in me head, cause why wouldn’t Thomas speak…” Jimmy’s smug grin appeared. 

Thomas rolled his eyes and walked closer. Jimmy moved his feet and cocked his head. Thomas looked at the empty space and sat down, then pulled out a cigarette for Jimmy. Jimmy took it and looked at him expectantly.

“Check your pockets,” Thomas laughed.

“Oh, yeah… breakfast,” Jimmy said and fished out Thomas’ lighter. 

“Don’t why we still call that thing mine.”

“Because it’s yours,” Jimmy said. 

Thomas shook his head. 

Jimmy glanced at his journal and then shut it. It made a loud slap that startled them both. Thomas laughed, and Jimmy rolled his eyes as he pushed into the inside of livery. 

“You’re lucky, Carson hasn’t noticed that bump.”

“It doesn’t stick out too much.”

“Enough…” Thomas muttered.

“You know it’s there…. Gonna fill it soon,” Jimmy said sounding unhappy about it.

“I’ll…”

“Not buy me another one, no way Thomas,” Jimmy snapped. 

It made Thomas huff, not that had any plans too, he couldn’t afford another one — not so soon. But he could get him paper, which was all he had in mind. “I wasn’t planning too.”

Jimmy gave him a look.

“Just was going to find you some paper, is all.”

“Is all…” Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t do anything for you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true,” he said sullenly face twisting into a scowl.   
Thomas shook his head. 

Jimmy sighed again and then moved around oddly until he managed to fish a newspaper out of his back pocket. Thomas looked at it oddly, until Jimmy opened up onto a page and showed it to him grinning. “You’ve gotta get Carson to let us all go.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I’ll bring it up tonight, you say something, hopefully, someone else with — this is a rare time we could’ve counted on Alfred not that I miss him or anything…”

Thomas thought Jimmy did miss Alfred, who knew bloody why but he didn’t call him on it. He was rather relieved by the lack of Alfred in his life. He was a reminder of O’Brien, no matter how hard he tried not think about her, seeing the tall oaf made pulled his thoughts in a lot of stupid directions. None of them good for his mood. 

“Anyway, we play it right, we’ll get to go again.”

“And you want to why?”

“It’s fun innit?”

Thomas gave him a look. 

“Arseholes trying to steal my money and rearranging your face notwithstanding.” 

“Notwithstanding,” Thomas chuckled. 

“Come on, Thomas… this time we get drunk together, right? We can go win things, you’re probably great at those toss rings on things games.” 

“They’re rigged.”

“We can play them…” Jimmy leaned forward and drew Thomas to stare right at his face and into his eyes. As always, Thomas thought. “It’ll be fun. It’ll be like London.” 

“Like London?” He asked, but his heart was pounding. Because he missed those nights, nothing was quite the same. They were never alone, they couldn’t stay near as late as they’d dared in the city. The world was back to their daily drudgery, but it was more than the freedom. It was the moments, the constant moments that seemed to be more than what they were… 

Sometimes in the walls of Downton or outside like now, Thomas thought maybe they were on the verge of that, but something was always pulling them back. The thought Jimmy missed it all too, or something about it — what was he missing. 

“Yeah… Don’t you miss it?”

“The city?” Thomas asked, uncertainty clawing at the inside of his chest. 

“No,” Jimmy scowled. “Not the…” he trailed off. “I miss….”

Thomas swallowed a sigh when Jimmy trailed off a second time, and he sat still and stared at Jimmy and willed him to say more. 

“You.” 

“What?” Thomas asked, befuddle, that wasn’t what he was expecting and it certainly didn’t mean what his heart hoped. “I did what?”

Jimmy shook his head. “It’s so much harder here…” 

“What is?”

But Jimmy was still shaking his head. “I miss the freedom and a day at a fair wouldn’t be quite as much, but it’d be freer, right?” 

The freedom. Yeah, he missed that too but not as much as the moments, as Jimmy himself. He nodded though at Jimmy. “We’ll do as you plan, I’m sure we can get Mrs. Hughes onside.” 

Jimmy let out relieved hum. 

“We should go back in…” Thomas sighed. 

“Do we have too?” Jimmy whined.

“You’ve already been out here too long as it is. We want a favor from Carson, we should be perfect the rest of the day,” Thomas stood up and straightened out his livery and made sure no dirt was his backside. He watched from the corner of his eye as Jimmy did the same — though not as thoroughly. He reached forward and knocked some dirt off the back of one of Jimmy’s thighs without thought. 

“What’re…Oh…” 

He looked up and saw Jimmy pink-cheeked staring at him. 

“Sorry…”

“For what?” Jimmy said quickly. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” Thomas couldn’t help it.

“More than,” Jimmy breathed out, and then he coughed. “I mean don’t be daft you stupid sod. Come on…” he started out of the woods. 

Thomas sighed. Of course, it was nothing. They walked in silence toward the Abbey and were about to step inside when Jimmy grabbed his arm. Their eyes met, and Jimmy looked oddly serious. “I really want us to have fun, Thomas.” 

“At the fair.”

“Yeah… it’s important.”

“Important?”

“Yes.”

Thomas felt a bit dizzy and confused, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask why because it was probably something simple and mundane. It wouldn’t ease the ache in his chest whenever he was this close with Jimmy and stupidly couldn’t stop hoping. 

“Very,” Jimmy said. “And well… I hope to have a surprise for you.”

“What?” Thomas startled. “What?”

“Now that’d be telling,” Jimmy winked at him and walked inside. 

Thomas stared at the space where he stood and tried to catch his breath. He couldn’t quite catch it, not after a wink like that and someday he would die from Jimmy Kent because the fool hadn’t clue how easily his actions touched Thomas.


	35. Please...

It was strange spending the fair with Jimmy. The last time he was here after they'd won the tug of war he'd found himself standing alone in the center of a crowd. Unsure what to do with himself, he'd thought he'd wander around, check out the stalls, have a bit of punch or pop. But instead, he'd ended up following Jimmy -- at a distance, but keeping him in sight. Increasingly worried about the amount of beer he kept drinking and drinking. It was strange now in hindsight he realized Jimmy been just as alone as him that day. It hadn't dawned on him at the time. They'd both been alone that day, fighting something Thomas supposed. For Thomas it was his feelings for the lad who made it loudly clear he hated him -- only had he? Was Jimmy fighting that?

He watched Jimmy now buying them both a drink of pop. He seemed to be avoiding the spirits offered this time. Perhaps because of the bad memories involved or maybe because there was no need? Thomas liked to think there was no need. Or it could be he was simply avoiding a massive headache the next morning. He took the drink and Jimmy tilted his head at him and frowned, lines on his face downward, a furrow between his brow. He shook his head at Thomas. "What?"

"Was remembering that's all."

"What?"

"We're both on our own last year weren't we?" He instantly regretted saying it, it wasn't something to bring up, and he sounded quite maudlin, and it wasn't at all how he felt. 

Jimmy laughed though, then shrugged. "You once said we were quite a pair...' 

Thomas' eyes widened. His mind flying back to that night, to that kiss and he looked down at his shoes, looked at the blades of grass surrounding them. "I'm surprised you remember that."

"Of course I do.... Hated how you seemed to see through me. Gotten used to that by now, though." 

Thomas looked up and met Jimmy's eyes. He was looking right at him, nothing in his expression that showed discomfort. In fact, it seemed quite the opposite, his posture, his expression, it was all open and honest. Jimmy motioned to the side of them. "Let's walk, yeah?"

He nodded, and the two of them fell into step. Easily and it was like London, only it was daylight, sun shining and warmer. They were in a crowd, but none of them were paying them any mind. Everyone focused on the stalls, the games or the food being offered. The crowd was noisy, but it wasn't too bustling, Thomas edged closer to Jimmy as they walked. They weren't really going anywhere he supposed as he drank a bit of his pop and watched Jimmy do the same at his side. Jimmy was leading them, though, wherever it was they were heading. 

"I didn't hate you," he said, suddenly breaking their silence, his voice almost too loud. He coughed. "I just thought I should." 

He stared at Jimmy's profile and wasn't quite sure what to say about that. 

"I know I was loud about it. A real prick, really..." Jimmy shook his head. 

"I've had worse."

Jimmy turned toward and scowled. "That makes it worse, you know."

"What?"

"I see Carson... He’s polite, and I almost wonder if that's worse than what I was doing... Alfred, he was friendly enough to you but... Bates' and the rest." 

Thomas shrugged. "I don't really care what they think."

"Yes, you do," Jimmy said with absolute certainty, and it made Thomas blush. To be seen. And he thought maybe he wasn't the only one who could see through masks. 

"Jimmy..."

"I'm just saying, it's all shite... All of it, them and what I did. It wasn't real. It was just... I was confused."

"By?"

"What you are... What I'm..." Jimmy shook his head. "I know you, though, I always did a bit. We got along right away, you were... Snarky, it liked it." 

Thomas smiled because he liked that about Jimmy too. 

"It got all messed up though, and it was my fault."

"Not entirely," Thomas pointed out.

"Maybe not... But I know you, the real you.... And you're nothing like the image of you everyone else in that bloody house has, Thomas." 

He shrugged and shook his head. 

"If they knew...." Jimmy sighed. "Here we are." He tossed his hands up and turned around a bit. 

Thomas stopped and realized they were under the bridge. Where really everything changed. 

"I couldn't wrap my head around you know..." Jimmy said. 

"What?"

"You, barreling in like you did like some kind of daring hero."

Thomas huffed nervously. "Jimmy..."

"True isn't it... Like, I'm supposed to be the hero of the story, that's what everything tells me. Oh, look at his bonny face and that charming grin." 

Thomas couldn't argue. 

"But... I'm self-centered you know, I only care about me."

"That's not true."

Jimmy shook his head. "Maybe... But you see me."

"Just have to look."

"I see you," he said. 

"I suppose."

"You are sly, you always look out for yourself. Protect what is yours, who you are -- but you have to Thomas. Cause no one is going to give you any favors. As much as arse as I can be... I get favors, don't I. And it's..."

"Jimmy."

"It's bloody unfair," he snapped.

Thomas shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged again. He felt vulnerable which wasn't odd when he was with Jimmy, but this felt more wide open because Jimmy's words were hitting spots he tried hard to keep armored. But he couldn't, not around him, never around him, and maybe he'd thought Jimmy knew but hearing him say it. 

"You shouldn't have done it, rush in to save me."

"Of course I should've..."

"No," Jimmy laughed. "I didn't deserve that... Not after everything."

"You did what was reasonable..." Thomas said. "And I was wrong, I was wrong to..."

"Give you that, but I didn't have to spend a year being as rude as I could..."

Thomas shook his head, strong emotion rushing through him. "Bloody, stop it. I'm not going to think I shouldn't have done something that got me what I wanted..." _or at least a piece of what I wanted._

"My friendship isn't what you wanted," Jimmy said. 

"It's enough."

Jimmy shook his head, shook his whole body really and took a step closer to Thomas. "It..." He licked his lips and took a deep breath. "What I..." He shook his head harder. 

Thomas bit the inside of his cheek, he swayed closer to him. It was always a fight not to let himself fall entirely into Jimmy when he stood this close to him. He wanted to press him, push him, tell him to spit it out but his breath was trapped in his throat. 

Jimmy's hand reached forward and he wrapped Thomas left wrist with his fingers. Thomas felt air rush out of him at the touch. It burned, and his entire body seemed to tingle starting from the press of Jimmy's fingers against his skin. They were warm and solid, and he was gripping Thomas. He was staring at it too, Jimmy's eyes were locked on where he was touching Thomas. 

Thomas gulped, the rush of the touch not dying but only growing and his eyes locked on Jimmy's face. He tried to speak, but if anything came out it was a squeak that he hoped wasn't audible. 

"I cared too much what..." Jimmy started again his voice strangely deep and quiet. "I mean about what was assumed..." 

"THIS WAY...." A woman's voice yelled breaking the moment.

Thomas stiffened and Jimmy's gaze shot to his face. Their eyes locked. 

"Clara, Heddy, this way" the woman's voice intruded again. 

Jimmy let go of him just as a three young woman appeared under the bridge. They all grinned at the two of them, completely oblivious that they were interlopers. Thomas grimaced as he watched them, skipping almost, past them, he glared at their backsides as they disappeared and he wondered why the bloody couldn't have gone the other way around. 

He heard Jimmy cursing under his breath and looked at him. He was looking up, his mouth formed into his familiar scowl and his entire body twisted up with irritation. He let out a long annoyed breath and then his head lowered down, and their eyes met. And he looked sorry and lost, and Thomas felt slapped. 

Jimmy's face softened in that instant. He stepped forward again, his hand shooting out toward Thomas's hand but it stopped. It hovered, and he sighed. "Please...." Jimmy sounded short of breath. "Understand?" 

Thomas nodded but he didn't at all, and his face must have revealed that. 

"You don't..."

"I want too..." He breathed. 

Jimmy nodded. "I pro..."

"Mr. Barrow, Jimmy there you are..." Mrs. Hughes voice called out. 

"Bloody fucking..." Jimmy swore and glared at her as she approached them.

"We're heading back now." 

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes," Thomas said his voice dripping with irritation. 

She surveyed them and shook her head. "Come along." 

Thomas started after her, put out and annoyed, he just wanted to get back to the Abbey now and lose himself in the mundane ritual of his job. He wanted to try not think about anything that just happened because he was lost and confused. And he felt angry at Jimmy for reasons he didn't even understand. 

But a hand grabbed his, and he stopped abruptly in shock.   
Jimmy held his hand but stood behind him. He pressed his fingers into the skin of Thomas' palm, against the glove, and pulled only enough that it was a bit of pressure. Thomas started to try to turn back to look at him.

"Don't," Jimmy blurted. 

Thomas stilled. 

"This isn't done, Thomas."

"It isn't."

"Never, really..." Jimmy laughed. 

"I don't..."

"I know, you don't -- I don't think you can." 

Thomas closed his eyes because he was afraid the bevy of emotions might make him fly away. He gritted his teeth. "Jimmy...."

"I know you're angry right now... Just don't be at me, please, Thomas." 

All the anger at Jimmy vanished in that instant, it was his power of him, and he sagged and nodded. 

"You.... Are too nice, sometimes."

"MR. BARROW...." Mrs. Hughes shout broke the moment again and caused Jimmy's hand to fall away. 

Thomas sighed, his irritation focusing solely on her. "Annoying old woman..."

Jimmy laughed in his ear as he passed him. "You like her, you don't fool me..." 

Thomas sputtered at that and Jimmy grinned at him. He felt his mind spin at the normalcy of that, of the playfulness but the quiet and the intimacy of the moments before were still making his skin tingle. He smiled at Jimmy though, and the two of them fell into step as the caught up with a very impatient looking Mrs. Hughes.


	36. Anniversary

Jimmy was at the piano, but he wasn’t playing, when Thomas walked into the servant’s hall. Anna and Baxter were at the table both silently focused on their sewing, heads bowed. Thomas watched them both, weighing his options, contemplating what he wished to do against what he probably should do — but it was Anna and Baxter in the room, and no one else seemed to be around. Everything was almost eerily silent to him, perhaps because Jimmy was at the piano, but his fingers were pressing down on the keys. Usually, if Jimmy was at the piano either a beautiful melody or a lively tune filled the air. Thomas watched Anna and Baxter for a beat longer, neither had glanced up at all, neither of them noting his presence. Though he wasn’t fool enough to think they didn’t know he was there. But…

He slipped his hands into his pockets and found his lighter and cigarettes and lit one, he’d been craving it for hours now, and the first inhale on it felt amazing. Then he crossed the room and did what he wanted to do instead of what he should — he sat down next to Jimmy at the piano and glanced at his profile. “Cigarette?”

“I’m good,” Jimmy said, but the words were barely audible.

“Are you certain?”

Jimmy laughed, but again it was soft, quiet, in a way he rarely was — it wasn’t in Jimmy not to be loud in some shape or form. Thomas felt the urge to place his hand on his thigh and fought against it by putting his hand on the keys and plunking two down and creating a discordant sound. 

“I’m quite all right, Mr. Barrow,” Jimmy said in an even tone, and he glanced at him, and their eyes met. 

He was wholly unconvinced and that silent communicated to Jimmy. Jimmy licked his lips and turned away, his eyes falling the keyboard. Then he placed his hand over Thomas. He moved his hand and positioned him above keys, sliding his fingers over his. Then he pressed, Thomas fingers hitting the keys, playing out an unknown to Thomas melody. Jimmy played it, his hand over Thomas, the two of them repeating the melody a few times. 

“What is it?” Thomas finally asked. 

“Damned if I know,” Jimmy grinned at him. “Making it up, aren’t I?” 

Thomas grinned and shook his head. 

“Making up a lot of things, all the time…” Jimmy sighed. 

“This is a problem?”

“Trying to narrow in on reality, though.” 

“Why bother doing that?” Thomas asked honestly. 

Jimmy expression fell into sadness, his eyes locked on Thomas’. “Do you make up things, Thomas?” His voice had dropped back into that quiet like he was afraid to voice anything too loudly. 

Thomas swallowed over a sudden lump, the Jimmy lump that appeared in his throat often, threatening to choke him when Jimmy managed to get in too close, managed to pinpoint a thing he would never dare tell another soul. But there was one exception, but… he started to turn to see if Anna and Baxter were still lost in their sewing.

“We’re alone,” Jimmy whispered. 

And the table was empty, and he blinked. 

“They left sometime during our playing.”

“Nice of them to say goodnight,” Thomas said dryly.

“As if you would’ve noticed,” Jimmy laughed. 

“Well…”

“Do you?”

“What?” Thomas asked playing dumb.

“You know.”

His face heated and his eyes went back to the piano. Jimmy ducked his head though, chasing their eye contact and Thomas felt trapped in that blue gaze, which felt suddenly intense and intimate. Thomas nodded but he wouldn’t speak, he couldn’t speak, Jimmy didn’t want to hear the things imagined. No one did — it wasn’t the sort of thing he could speak out loud. 

“Yeah?” Jimmy whispered, and his own cheeks seemed flushed. 

Thomas blinked, shocked by the implication of the question. 

Jimmy smiled, and it felt like the moment dragged on suspended. Thomas’ heart was beating wildly, and he thought he was going mad. Jimmy coughed, and his eyes flitted away from Thomas. Thomas breathed out in relief because it meant he hadn’t had to be the one to break the moment. 

“Been…um, trying to do something for awhile now,” Jimmy said his voice oddly choked. “Since the fair, really.”

The fair. Every second under the bridge was a vivid memory because he’d been savoring it, he’d been analyzing it, going over it and fantasizing a million ways it could have veered into the directions his heart wished. He felt his cheeks heat again and wondered if Jimmy really understood the depths of his imagination. 

“It’s just… no time’s felt right. And there is no bloody privacy here.”

“Jimmy?”

“I…” Jimmy shifted on his seat, hands going into one his pockets. He pulled something out, holding it closed in his fist. He moved again and straddled the piano bench, so he facing Thomas fully. “I noticed you know.”

“Noticed?”

“Last year, after… you didn’t have that fob watch anyway.”

It’d been a loss, he’d felt it at first, it was one of the few things he still carried from his life before Downton, but over time he’d forgotten about it. Maybe not entirely as the memory of it surfaced fast enough now but he shook his head confused. 

Jimmy cleared his throat, held his hand up and a watched dangled into the air between them. Jimmy holding it from a simple chain. Thomas stared at it, it was simple, it wasn’t made out of silver or anything, but something about it drew him in instantly. “I wanted… I was going to get you this flashier one, it was silver, had some design etched on it… But I kept going back to this one, every time I went to the store to make sure the owner hadn’t sold the flashier one. I really wasn’t going to buy it… despite, this instinct, don’t why I kept fighting it. Guess, it’s what I do…”

“Jimmy?” Thomas tried to slow him down, he felt completely confused. 

“I’m talking too much, I know.. It’s just I finally picked it up. When I was waiting for the guy to box the flashier one. I picked this one up, and I held it in my hands for the first time. And I turned it around…” Jimmy trailed off, and he grabbed Thomas hand and placed the watch in it. “Turn it around.” 

There was the weight of it against his palm, Thomas stared down at it and then back up at Jimmy. “This is for me?” 

Jimmy snorted. “Of course it is.”

“But…” Thomas shook his head, people didn’t buy him things, that just wasn’t…

“I owed you didn’t I? And I wanted to too, I mean… you get me things all the time.”

“I don’t.”

“I filled that journal, and you got me more paper. And I was already planning this anyway, so it’s not just 'cause of the journal. I mean I was saving, the money up, for the flashier watch.”

“Right… I like this one,” Thomas said, and he stared at it again. It was basic, there wasn’t much about it at all really but looked well made, and somehow it felt like it belonged to him.

“Turn it around.”

Thomas flipped it in his hand and realized there was something inscribed on the back of it. He held it up in his hand, toward the light and read the word aloud. “Persevere.” 

“Good word innit?”

“I…”

“It’s… You fight, always, stubborn, you know? You never give up.”

“That’s not…”

“No. But if you do it’s only 'cause you think you have to.”

“Okay?” Thomas question his mind busy trying to catch up with Jimmy’s train of thought.

“I want.. I have this thing I need to ask of you, but I couldn’t figure out to say it — still struggling really. But that word. It’s… about not giving up, it can go with being patient, maybe?”

“Jimmy?”

“It’s that… it’s not just for you, the word, it’s for me. I have to not give up.”

“Not give up what?”

“Trying to ignore the rules.”

“You ignore the rules? Try to all the time…”

“Carson’s arbitrary bullshit, sure… but no these are different rules. Even you kowtow to them in ways… Though you don’t too.”

“Jimmy?”

“I want something from you.”

“What?”

“I can’t spit out yet, which is why — the watch, it was perfect for you, absolutely perfect and I knew it in my bones, but I let me head keep me focused on the other stupid watch. I almost screwed this up, I almost didn’t give you that, but then I saw the inscription… A perfect word.”

“I do love it, the watch but I don’t understand.”

“No, I doubt you will until I can spell it out.”

“Then spell it out.”

“I can’t…” Jimmy’s face screwed up with irritation, Thomas expected it was at himself. “I can’t… but… you, you need to persevere and not…” 

“You sound mad,” Thomas interrupted. 

“I know,” Jimmy laughed, then he grabbed the watch out of Thomas' hand and put it on the piano. Thomas went to take it back, he wasn’t quite done looking at what was his watch, but Jimmy grabbed his hand. 

“Jimmy…”

He put their hands together on the keys again and started the melody up again. Thomas fell into the feel of their hands, the pretty sound of the music and wondered how Jimmy could make up such things…   
“I’m making it up, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But…” he pressed his fingers harder against Thomas’. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Don’t be daft…”

“You make up things.”

Thomas blushed again, then he startled as he felt breath against his ear. 

“Don’t stop,” Jimmy whispered in that hushed voice from before. “Persevere.”

“I don’t…”

“But you do…” Jimmy argued. “You’re just afraid.”

Thomas shook his head.

“I know because I am too.”

“Afraid.”

“And trying to persevere.”

“Just… listen to the voice you try to ignore when it comes to us.”

“Us?” Thomas repeated in shock.

Jimmy smiled, stood up, handed Thomas back the watch. “Happy anniversary — I know I’m a few days late. Good night, Thomas.”

As he watched Jimmy leave the room, Thomas thought maybe the entire room was spinning. He was afraid to stand, was quite confident his knees would give out on him. He held the watch in his hand, his mind flying over their conversation. More and more he was wondering if he and Jimmy were speaking the same language — but no, he knew they were but…

He stared down that the watch. 

Happy Anniversary? Jimmy’s voice echoed in his mind, and he read the inscription. _Persevere._


	37. Markings

He hadn’t allowed it any weight. The time that passed. But he knew, of course. He knew. But he hadn’t allowed it to be an idea. He couldn’t put that weight onto their relationship. There were to be no counting of the days, none at all, no acknowledgment of time passing, nothing to mark the milestones. Thomas hadn’t thought about it, not really, yet he knew. He knew. He always knew. 

He hadn’t noted the date. He laughed now, remembering clearly how he’d grabbed his date book to look at the date after Jimmy left his room. He wanted to mark it, his heart been beating quickly. He’d imagined writing down what happened and the miracle that occurred. 

But he stopped himself. 

He hadn’t done it. 

It had been fear. That the next day it would turn out to be a lie. Jimmy would’ve come to his senses and kept his distance from Thomas. It’d been another kind of fear too. It would somehow make it too true. Too real. Something inside of him needed distance from what his heart wanted and what was being gifted. 

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t his true wish, his real hope. 

He put the book away, he hadn’t made a note of it… And he kept that weight off of their friendship all of this time. He wouldn’t allow the weight of marking the time to touch their friendship. It felt too fragile, it was too important. 

So, Thomas hadn’t noted the time beyond a general knowing, it was the passing of seasons, it was the end of a few fights or the end of one of them no longer avoiding the other for a myriad of reasons. They passed. Their friendship shifted and changed. But he didn’t note any markers, even if maybe he noticed that maybe it'd been around three months. Or it’s been a few months since the last time Jimmy took two steps back… 

_Maybe I have faith he won’t disappear._

Those idle thoughts were to remain idle. No note of time, of a date, or even the day of the week. He let time remain distant and unnoticed. 

Until now. And his first thought now that he was letting time into the door was it felt longer than a year. Yet, it also felt like less than a year. How had it gone so quickly and slowly at the same time? The time had flown by but it also felt like he known Jimmy for… 

Years.

Decades?

He always felt like he knew Jimmy. From the second he first saw his face. That smug confident smile and that knowing twinkle in his eyes. 

It felt like a lifetime like they spend a lifetime together. Especially the last few months. Something changed, something had shifted, they were…. Closer. London had been bewildering, special and created something deeper between them. And Thomas, he’d almost written the dates down but hadn’t dared. Once again too afraid.

Thomas opened the calendar he kept by his bedside and looked at the month. It was May. It was laid out in squares and numbers. He hadn’t noted the date, a year ago but Jimmy’s voice echoed in his head, and the watch was heavy in his pocket. Thomas swallowed over a dry throat and the odd lump that formed. He let himself scan the dates of the month, look at the days and his eyes instantly found _the date_. 

May 18th. Four days before now... a few days late Jimmy’s voice echoed. 

Thomas had been careful to not to count because his heart wanted too, his heart wanted to mark every second Jimmy Kent was something to him. He wanted to give their relationship weight. A force. He believed it be special and it meant…

It meant things to him that he didn't know how to define. 

Their friendship was something, his heart clung to it, held on to it tightly. Maybe too tightly. But he couldn’t count the days of it, he couldn’t mark any of its milestones… 

Because friendships didn’t have anniversaries. 

“Or…” he whispered out loud and pulled the watch out of his pocket. Simple, plain, beautiful. He opened it up, with precise movements opened it further to get a look at its insides. It was well made, nothing special though, nothing that made it worth anything to anyone who didn’t know a thing about watches. He would have chosen it if he’d seen it in a shop. He would have been drawn to it because it got the job done and there was beauty in its simplicity. The clockwork ticked without a stutter.

Time went on, and this watch would allow him to keep track. He closed it up and flipped it over. _Persevere._ Thomas shook his head, he wasn’t sure what it meant to Jimmy. Only it meant something, something for him to do and for Jimmy to do…

To keep going.

Biding time? 

Marking time? 

Thomas reached into a drawer and found a pencil. It was the 22nd now… he thought, and he placed the pencil over the square. It hovered over the page. Weight slammed onto his shoulders, but it wasn’t pressing him down. It felt comfortable and right. 

_Jimmy celebrated our anniversary…4 days late but maybe this day is more important now._

Thomas licked his lips, looked at the milestone marked. 

Then he flipped back to April to mark London.


	38. Yes, You Can

It was raining hard enough that Thomas almost felt it inside the Abbey. Everything was damp. Everything seemed wet with it. He loved torrential downpours. Enjoyed days like this, with cozy fires and there was a sort of closed in feeling that he found oddly comforting. Everything felt smaller. But he couldn’t enjoy it, not today, his head was pounding. Along with the rain, it was like it was inside his skull. He sat down in his rocking chair and found he couldn’t look at the fire. The flames were too bright. Wincing, he bent his head down and rubbed at his temples. An odd impulse, he thought, as his fingers pressed and did nothing to ease the pain. 

“Thomas?” Jimmy's voice was low and soft. 

He managed to open his eyes again and saw Jimmy standing before him. Mouth twisted into a worried scowl and his eyes squinting down at Thomas. 

“You should go up.” 

Thomas shook his head and regretted it.

“Don’t…” Jimmy rolled his eyes at him. 

“I can finally sit, I am not moving for quite a bit,” Thomas explained. His day finally finished, it felt never-ending. He’d had delusions of reading the paper, but he knew that wasn’t about to happen now. His eyes felt bleary. He fished in his pocket for a cigarette. 

“Smoke should help,” Jimmy said somehow keeping his voice soft while still lacing it with sharp sarcasm. 

“It won’t hurt,” Thomas muttered, though he wondered if that was true. He fished for his lighter, then rolled his eyes and held out his hand to Jimmy.

His brow went up, his worried scowl twisted. “I don’t think so.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Jimmy laughed lowly. “I’ll go make you tea.”

“Jimmy…” Thomas protested, and he started to sit up, but his head throbbed, so he fell back into the seat. Jimmy was long gone, already in the kitchen, and Thomas looked around the servant’s hall and noticed how empty it all was… there was no sound from the kitchen, except for a clatter of something — that was Jimmy making a mess. No shouts from Mrs. Patmore followed. He turned a bit and glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle. 

It was a lot later than he realized. He must’ve been moving like molasses, as he finished up his duties upstairs. He rubbed at his temples again and regretted it even more quickly than the time before. Sighing, he slid as far back as he could in the rocking chair, tilted back a bit and closed his eyes. But he couldn’t relax, there was a crick in his neck, and he sat up straighter and tried to move his neck, stretch it out… 

At least lessen some of the stiffness. It could only help. 

Jimmy appeared, holding not only a teacup but a glass with the powder dissolved in it. His eyebrow rose as he spotted Thomas trying to turn his neck to the left. “What are you?”

“Neck’s stiff.”

“So you’re trying to twist it more?”

“I’m trying to loosen it up.”

“It looks painful.”

“It is.” 

Jimmy rolled his eyes and handed him the glass. “Well, drink up.”

“Yes, nurse,” Thomas chuckled. 

Jimmy snorted.

Thomas felt his face wrinkle up as he swallowed the medicine. He shuddered a bit as he drank it and pushed the glass back onto Jimmy. Who was looking at him with an odd expression. “What?”

Jimmy cleared his throat and shook his head. “Nothing…” he took the glass and then handed Thomas the teacup. “Hope I got the sugar and milk ratio right?”

Thomas took a sip, and his mouth twitched up into a smile before he could school and tease Jimmy a bit. It’d hit the spot though, something uncoiled inside of him. And though his head felt in tune to the rain pounding the side of the Abbey, he felt marginally better. Glancing at Jimmy, he wondered if it was really the tea… 

Though he had gotten it right and he went to tell him, but he moved just enough in the wrong direction his neck twinged. “Ow…”

Jimmy made a noise, and suddenly he was behind Thomas, his hands on his shoulders, pressed up against his neck. “Where?”

But Thomas stiffened, more, he supposed. His breath was caught, and he nearly dropped the tea. “What?” he managed to sputter.

Jimmy just pressed his hands in and seemed to find the knot that was bothering Thomas out of luck. Jimmy was made of luck, Thomas thought as his body just caved into the touch, soaking it up… 

“There?” Jimmy asked.

“Seems so…” Thomas whispered back. 

“Hmmm…” Jimmy hummed and sighed. “Undo your collar.”

Thomas stopped breathing and tried to form a response. He was quite sure he was going to decline to do that, thank you very much but Jimmy huffed impatiently and before Thomas could even blink hands moved in front of him and undid his bowtie and yanked out the starched collar. Then he felt the heat of Jimmy’s hands against his skin as his thumbs pressed into the muscle that was giving Thomas fits. He bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes fluttered closed and it felt like too little and too much. He made a noise from the back of his throat that sounded too obscene for the servant’s hall, and his cheeks flamed. 

“Yeah, that’s it…” Jimmy chuckled. 

“How…”

“Anstruther…” Jimmy muttered, sounding ashamed. “She liked neck rubs.” 

“Not really in a footman’s purview.”

“Imagine if I’d put it on my resume.” 

“Carson wouldn’t have hired you…” Thomas said dryly.

“Brilliant I am, then, keeping it my secret.” 

“Well, thanks for sharing…” Thomas heard himself moan again and snapped his mouth shut. 

Jimmy chuckled deeply behind him, it turned into a hum…. Everything fell quiet except for it, the low hum as he focused on what he was doing. Thomas felt his shoulders release tension and his head bend down further. He breathed easier, and though his headache wasn’t really abating, the loosening of his neck and shoulders was pure relief. 

But it was also Jimmy’s hands, warm and strong against him, pressing into him, touching him. His skin. He felt a rush of goose pimples, his stomach swooped, he felt slight callouses on Jimmy’s palms against his skin. They were touching, and it wasn’t a simple arm grab… 

It was closer to the times Jimmy grabbed his wrist, but this was different, this was less impulse and more purposeful. It was intimate. He learned it from the woman who seduced Jimmy into her bed. Jealously swooped through him, flipping his belly and his eyes flew open. 

“What?” Jimmy’s hand stilled, and Thomas realized he must have tense.

“Hit something wrong…” Jimmy’s thumbs as caressing his skin now, where they stilled, just smoothing against his skin. 

“It’s…” Thomas stood up abruptly, he gritted his teeth in disappointment as he moved out of Jimmy’s touch. He turned, the rest of the sentence on his lips but it died at the confused look on Jimmy’s face. But their eyes met, then Jimmy's eyes dipped down and up, it was quick, he was taking in Thomas appearance, and something silent happened between them. 

“Oh…” Jimmy breathed out. 

“Yes,” Thomas agreed. He put his teacup down. “I’ll go up now.”

“Then I’ll walk with you.”

“Oh, right…” Thomas breathed out in relief, which shocked him because he felt ready to run. Run from the heaviness that was between them, he wasn’t imagining it... was he? 

“Anytime, you know…” Jimmy held up his hands and mimicked massaging. 

“What?” Thomas eyed widened. “I couldn’t ask…”

“Yes, you can.”

“No…”

“Yes, you can,” Jimmy repeated, harsher and it almost sounded like an order. 

“Oh…” Thomas felt himself cave into that, but he wasn’t sure he could ever dare to ask for something like a neck rub. 

Jimmy sighed and looked away for a moment. Thomas took a breath, during the brief break from Jimmy’s gaze. Then he felt a hand wrap around his wrist, that motion, that impulse, he felt Jimmy’s finger tighten. He looked up and saw that blue eyes were staring right at him. Jimmy grinned and nodded. “Come on,” he said and pulled gentle at Thomas' arm. 

And they walked up the stairs, quite a bit, before Jimmy’s hand fell away. But it was his fingers on his neck that Thomas was feeling. He could feel the press of them, the heft of them, his skin tingled and he was quite sure wasn’t because his muscles felt looser. 

They reached Jimmy’s door first and stopped. 

“Thank you, Jimmy,” Thomas forced himself to say, and he thought it sounded daft, dull, the words didn’t match what he meant. They were what you said, they were polite, but they didn’t touch the truth…

Not that he was quite sure what the full truth entailed. 

“No need,” Jimmy shrugged. 

“But I mean it,” Thomas said. 

“No…” Jimmy sighed. “I mean it, Thomas.” 

Thomas found himself shaking his head, disbelieving, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was he was arguing with. His chest ached, it was distracting him from the physical pain in his head but not from the sense memory of Jimmy’s massage. 

Jimmy laughed softly after a moment. “Go to sleep Thomas, hope you feel better in the morning.” 

Thomas nodded, but he found he couldn’t move. He needed Jimmy to vanish behind his door first. He needed to watch him turn away, he needed Jimmy to make that move. There was a beat, Jimmy met his eyes, a bit confused and then his expression softened — again. There was another soft laugh, but Thomas wondered what it meant, he was quite sure didn’t know at all. Jimmy opened his door and stepped through. Their eyes met, as the door slid closed, just before Jimmy was gone from view he gave Thomas a blinding smile. 

Dazed, Thomas wandered slowly to his room.


	39. Blank Space

His inner clock was rushing him, he felt he was running behind and if he didn’t find a way to make a few minutes the rest of his day would fall five minutes behind. Thomas prided himself on being punctual, and he also prided himself on knowing the Crawley’s needs before they knew them. It was a combination eavesdropping, cleverness and not running behind on all his other duties. This meant he needed to make up the time. So, as he headed toward the entrance for the service staircase, he was in a hurry, which was why he passed the library by a few feet before he processed he’d noticed something out of the ordinary in his peripheral vision. 

He slowed to a stop and questioned if he'd truly seen something, or if it was just a shadow? He shook his head, unsure of the answer, but the uncertainty tugged at him, and he turned around. If something was awry he needed to know about it, if something was awry it could be something useful, he thought with a slight smirk. Thomas stepped slowly around the door, careful, not wanting to be seen unless it was heeded, and looked into the room. 

The library wasn’t empty, which it was meant to be at this hour. Though, there were times when Mr. Grantham or even Mr. Branson would wander into it looking for a book. It wasn’t them. It was Jimmy. Bent over one of the reading stands, staring at a page of a book. Thomas looked around him, making sure no one else was wandering about the foyer and turned back to Jimmy. He should clear his throat, get Jimmy’s attention, ask him what he’s doing in the library when he should be on duty. But the sight of Jimmy was stopping him. For once it wasn’t admiration, there was something wrong, something very wrong. 

He stepped closer, silently, a skill he used to his advantage of the years and was using now to get a closer look. Because Jimmy was lost to the world, he was inside the book, Thomas thought. He usually sensed Thomas by now, even when he’s writing, he’ll glance up and note Thomas has arrived. But no, he was inside the book, taking in whatever was on the page intensely enough he wasn’t at all in the real world. And his jaw was clenched, his shoulders were hunched, and Thomas noticed the hand that was on the book, was holding onto the pages tightly enough Thomas feared he might harm the book. 

He thought about clearing his throat again, but that didn’t feel like the way to handle this. Instead, he stepped closer, this time not worrying about making any noise, half hoping Jimmy would notice he was no longer alone. But as Thomas moved closer, Jimmy remained intent over the page he seemed to be trying to absorb. Thomas knew now he would have to touch him and stepped close enough to smell him. Summer, a summer storm, Thomas thought, like he smelled at the end of a long day. It seemed early for that, Thomas thought as he watched the muscle in Jimmy’s jaw clench again from up close. He closed his eyes at that and pushed the thoughts it evoked away, it wasn’t the time. It never was really. Thomas reached out and pressed a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. 

He felt Jimmy entire body flinch at the touch, but it relaxed quickly. Thomas hoped it was because Jimmy realized it was him. Blue eyes were suddenly looking at him, and Thomas felt something lurch in his chest because he swore he saw tears in them. But he had no chance to question it because Jimmy was suddenly standing up straight and had stepped away from Thomas touch. 

“Mr. Carson,” Jimmy said in a strangled voice.

Thomas felt annoyance shoot down his spine as he met Jimmy’s now slightly panicked expression. He shook his head minutely and hoped it conveyed that he would handle this. 

“What are the two of you doing in here?” 

Thomas turned, closed the book on the stand and shoved it into Jimmy’s arms and turned to face Carson. “His lordship asked Jimmy to put away some books, Mr. Carson. I was just asking him the same question.”   
“Were you?” Mr. Carson eyes darted between them and landed on Thomas’. 

Thomas instantly saw accusation in Carson's eyes, but then again, when didn’t Carson look at him as if he was about to rob the place. He straightened his spine and kept eye contact as Jimmy spoke. 

“He was, like he said, his Lordship asked if I would put away a few books. I was just getting to this one…” Jimmy lifted the book up a bit. “It goes…” he turned and headed toward one of the library ladders. 

Mr. Carson’s eyes flitted toward Jimmy and back to Thomas. Things were quiet, and Thomas knew Mr. Carson was looking for anything, just one tiny thing, he could use to yell at them for. But he had nothing, and they both knew it. 

“Very well. You both have duties to attend to… so attend to them,” he said as he turned on his heel and left the room. 

“Of course, Mr. Carson,” Thomas said. 

“Yes, Mr. Carson…. Sorry Mr. Carson,” Jimmy called out from behind him. 

The apology had Thomas abruptly turning to stare at Jimmy. 

Jimmy shrugged at him, ducked his head and hurried out of the room. Thomas furrowed his brow as he looked at the empty path Jimmy taken out of the room. It was odd. The whole thing was odd. He turned around and walked over to the ladder. The book had been blue, with a silver spine, he was sure of it despite only have a brief glimpse of it when he picked it up. He hadn’t seen the title, however, having shoved the book at Jimmy with it’s front facing him. He trailed his fingers over the spines, reading the titles of all the ones with silver spines….

One stood out, and he whispered it aloud as he saw it. “Constellations of the Northern Hemisphere.” 

His heart clenched. He felt instantly cold. It’d been freezing that night, the night Jimmy crashed to the ground and clung onto Thomas' arm and sobbed into his shoulder. Thomas shuddered at the memory, the pain he’d heard in Jimmy sobs and felt as he cried. They’d never spoken about it like they’d never spoken about the time Jimmy found Thomas crying. 

It just was. 

But Thomas knew now why Jimmy been lost on the page he’d been staring at…. What was it? Her birthday? Her anniversary? Thomas felt his throat go dry as he tried to pinpoint the few things Jimmy ever spoke aloud about his mother. But he had a good memory about the details of Jimmy Kent and his guess was it was her birthday. It was spring still, summer was coming up, and it’d been cold that night. When Jimmy couldn’t find the constellations.

“Mr. Barrow?”

He jumped away from the bookcase to find Mary Crawley looking at him and relief flooded him that it was her. Because she was looking at him with curiosity and possibly amusement when any of the others would be suspicious. 

“Are you well, you look quite pale… Even for you.” 

“Quite well, M’Lady,” he said with a slight bow. “I was just putting a book away.”

“I see…” she said though it was clear she knew he was lying. 

He bowed a bit again and walked past her. She was the least of his worries. Jimmy needed him, didn’t he? They were friends? They were there for each other, it was something they did now… He thought about Jimmy taking care of him when his migraines bothered him and helping him home when he’d drunk too much. 

He remembered that night with a bright moon when Jimmy cried, caving into a grief Thomas was quite sure he pushed aside most of the time but had crowded in. It was crowding in on Jimmy again, he realized, and he had to do something, he needed to be there. Again. Always. The only question was how and that made a blank space appear in his mind, and that made Thomas feel quite useless. 

He found himself standing in the servant’s hall. It was empty, as was expected, it wasn’t the time of day anyone should have time for sitting. He wanted to sit, have a cup of tea but he couldn’t. He was far more behind than he’d been before spotting Jimmy in the library. 

He felt irritation at the blank space in his mind. He needed a way to help Jimmy, to do something with what he knew and what he understood. He sighed deeply and shook himself. No. He would figure it out, he would find a way to give Jimmy the support needed. 

He’d fill that blank space.


	40. A Familiar Quiet

The light that peeked out from under Jimmy’s door told Thomas all he needed to know. He was right. His friend was going through something. The loss of a loved parent. Thomas swallowed and wondered if he could really understand Jimmy’s pain. His mother was worth the grief, Thomas imagined. That idea felt foreign to him, and he wasn’t at all sure what use he’d be to Jimmy. Yet, he needed to offer it. It was humming under his skin the entire day, this vibration and anxiety. He felt restless and impatient. Knowing Jimmy was grieving and alone. It bothered him in his bones. He told himself it was friendship. He told himself he wasn’t crossing any lines. But even if he was, he found he didn’t care, and a voice in the back of his head whispered nearly would Jimmy. He wasn’t sure if he believed the whispers, but he knew he couldn’t leave Jimmy alone. Not when maybe if he offered support, it would lessen the weight of grief Jimmy felt. 

He remembered the heaviness of it. Remembered the sobs and the aborted breathes, the sucking in oxygen because it was too hard to breathe as he shook in Thomas’ arms. The memory made Thomas feel shaky himself. The sight of Jimmy bowed over that book, with intense concentration and pain, the sight of the bend of his shoulders and the clench in his jaw. The fact he’d been avoided at all costs for the rest of the day and night. 

And the light in his room, still on, well past when it should have been snuffed out. Thomas straightened his spine, pushed the thoughts about the last time he snuck toward Jimmy’s room in the dead of night — they didn’t belong in the present. He lifted his free hand and knocked and instantly found his breath trapped in his lungs. 

Jimmy opened the door quickly but turned away before Thomas could try to judge his mood by the expression on his face. He wasn’t sure if he was welcomed or not. But the door was ajar, and Jimmy stepped far enough into the room following seemed to be what he should do — so he did. He stepped inside and closed the door.  
“I don’t…”

“I have brandy,” Thomas interrupted Jimmy. He assumed he was going to tell Thomas he didn’t want to talk about it. It’d been his assumption due to Jimmy avoiding him, due to knowing the subject matter. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to talk about it either because he tried and tried all day and night to come up with something to say to his friend. And all the words that came to his mind fell flat and felt empty. His mind stayed blank. Until he saw the brandy when he was closing up Robert Crawley’s liquor cabinet for the night. He nicked it. Though it wasn’t really a problem, being the Under Butler meant he did the inventory for it, he bought the replacements. This was an extra bottle from a deal he’d made with the owner of a ship in York. Thomas was quite extra pleased with how good he was at his job at the moment. 

“Brandy?” Jimmy turned at him making a face. “That fancy stuff his Lordship drinks?” 

Thomas quirked a brow. 

“Yeah, well, give it over then…” Jimmy smiled though his eyes didn’t shine with it. 

Thomas handed over the bottle. 

Jimmy hefted it a bit in his hand, feeling the weight of it. “Not opened?”

“Brand new.”

“You’ll get in trouble.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. 

"Fine, sorry, of course, you have it covered." Jimmy chuckled and twisted open the cap and took a gulp. His face winced a bit as swallowed, but his eyes widened. "Not bad."

"Not bad..." Thomas took the bottle. "This is high-class liquor."

"Yes, My Lord," Jimmy snarked. 

Thomas coughed as he swallowed and pushed away his reaction to that -- this wasn't at all the time. He shook his head and handed the bottle back over. "Thought we could drink and have a smoke."

"Not in the mood to sleep?" Jimmy said.

"Don't think I could," Thomas said.

"Why not?"

"Would know you were awake wouldn't I?"

Jimmy ducked his head down and sighed. He grabbed the bottle again and walked toward the window in his room. Then fell down gracefully to the floor putting his back to the wall and knees in front of his face. Thomas followed his motions and position and settled himself next to him. 

It fell quiet. The only sound their breath and the liquid sloshing in the bottle as the past it back and forth. After a while Thomas pulled out his cigarettes and Jimmy lit them with the lighter. Thomas smiling as the silver flashed out of nowhere in Jimmy's hand. Then it was the soft sound of smoking, the slosh of the brandy and their breathing. Everything felt muted, and Thomas found himself wanting to say something but his mind was blank. Because words felt useless, the subject felt too important, and all he could do was hope Jimmy understood why he was here. 

"You're in my room." The words were sudden and felt loud in the silence they'd created. Both of them startled by it, Jimmy chuckled and cleared his throat. He repeated it, and the words were softer in the air. 

"I am."

"Took you long enough," Jimmy said. "Though, knocking, really?"

"Not all of us can aspire to your rudeness." 

Jimmy shook his head. "You're allowed any night you know..."

"I know," Thomas said. 

"But tonight is what did it, huh?"

"Seemed important," Thomas took the bottle of brandy and put it down behind them. His head felt fuzzy, and he was sure Jimmy was the same -- he didn't want them to be drunk, not for this, he'd just hoped to maybe help Jimmy to breathe. 

"Cutting me off?"

"Jimmy?" 

Jimmy nodded then sighed. "Thought maybe if I studied it again I could finally figure it out." 

"Have you tried?"

"It's bloody cloudy out," Jimmy grumbled. "I doubt I could anyway. It's useless. She spent all those nights, all those nights taking me out and talking and pointing at them. And I can't fucking find one. ONE." 

"There is tomorrow?"

"Not her birthday, though."

"Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?" Jimmy said.

Thomas shrugged. "Whose to say we can only remember people on specific days. Seems odd to give only a couple days a year to the people we miss..."

"I suppose....but it seems." 

"Was that all she talked about? On those nights?" Thomas asked. "The stars?"

"Uh...no," Jimmy shook his head. "Music, literature, random things. She just talked with me, lectured me -- a lot --- she lectured me a lot. She... She talked about music, I listened then... Why didn't I listen at the other stuff? Had to have mattered, right? I loved it, I always loved it when we went outside, she'd make hot chocolate, it was almost always in winter. You'd think it'd be summer... But... That’s why I dragged you out last winter. I think she loved winter, how mad was she?" Jimmy laughed. 

"I love winter."

"You're mad."

Thomas smiled. 

"I loved it, but I didn't listen well enough."

"Maybe that's not the point."

"Meaning?"

"You loved it, you remember loving it. She gave you all those moments, with her... Maybe that's all you do have to remember, being happy with her?" 

Jimmy wiped at his eyes, leaned his head against the wall and they both winced at him knocking it a bit too hard. He nudged Thomas with his shoulder, and Thomas leaned into him a bit in response. Jimmy looked up at his ceiling. "She was beautiful and funny. She was loud, and she played the piano better than me." 

Thomas shook his head in disbelief.

"She did, Thomas. And she could sing. She sang all day, old songs, new songs -- old songs now -- her own made up things. She was always happy when I made up stuff. Dad... He didn't like me playing the piano or reading so much... As I got older, I started listening to him more, wanting to be like him. She dragged me outside more and more, though. Telling me about music, what it meant to her and pointing at the stars. It was like, she was trying to tell me something... I think I missed it. I think I missed it. And I lost her, I lost her, and she's the one who can tell me...." Jimmy used his arm to wipe at his face and let his head hit the wall again. 

"Tell you?"

"Who I am..." Jimmy whispered. 

"What do you mean?" Thomas asked. 

Jimmy sighed and turned his head to look at Thomas. Thomas bit the inside of his cheek, afraid he might gasp, because Jimmy looked sad, too sad. There was a sorrow in his eyes, it was even etched in the lines around them. "You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe I can?"

"No."

"Tell me anyway."

"Why?"

"Because I lo...care, Jimmy."

Jimmy blinked, and tears fell down his cheeks. "You know, Thomas. You know who you are and you embrace it."

Thomas shook his head. 

"You're so strong."

"No..." Thomas whispered because he wasn't. 

Jimmy's eyes widened, and Thomas felt more of his weight on his shoulder. "Really?"

"Really."

"Oh."

"But...." Thomas blinked. "We're talking about you."

More tears fell out of Jimmy's eyes, and Thomas fisted his hands into his pants to stop himself from reaching out to wipe them from his cheeks. "I don't know who I am... And I can hear her telling me I'm not my father and that I am more..." 

"You are..." Thomas agreed easily.

Jimmy smiled. "More what? More? More than my father? He wasn't a bad man, just... He wanted me to work at the factory too, to not hum all the time. Seems normal, though, a normal thing for a father to want for his son. But she told me to not listen and not to be like him. She'd tell me she loved him, but I shouldn't be like him because it wasn't true. And what does that mean?"

Thomas shook his head. 

"I don't know who I am, I'm lost, and I thought maybe... If I could find the bloody north star like she was always pointing out and the constellations around it. Maybe some of the things she said would make more sense. I think she was half daft though... She made me sound better than I am," he laughed. "Like you..." Jimmy was staring at him again. "It's weird, innit? You reminding me of my mother?"

"It sounds as if we'd get along."

"Yeah, both blindly thinking I'm brilliant."

"You are..."

"I don't feel it, not all the time... It’s a lie, you know? The confidence. Of course, you know, you saw that right away."

"It's a lie for me..." Thomas remembered telling him that, letting it slip that he wasn't so confident underneath. It left his mouth without his permission, along with an I love you. Unbidden but true. He loved Jimmy before he knew him, but now he knew him. And the love was unending. "Never admitted it out loud before that night."

"I didn't deny it. I wanted to, but I met your eyes and...just didn't deny it."

Thomas smiled. 

"You're lost too?" Jimmy asked. 

"Maybe."

"You still... You know who are."

"A fat lot of good it does me."

Jimmy nodded, but then his head moved side to side. "Still envy it."

"Why?" Thomas asked. 

Jimmy moved and suddenly his hand on was Thomas' face. He couldn't stop the gasp, but Jimmy seemed not to notice because he just stared into his eyes. His eyes dark, still shining with sadness and something else... Thomas couldn't read it, he was thinking, he was searching. Jimmy stared into him and smiled but it remained sad. 

But he was beautiful, so bloody beautiful and Thomas felt his eyes filling up with tears, though he couldn't tell himself why and his heart was hammering. Everything was overwhelming, and his eyes darted down because he wouldn't move his head. Jimmy might stop touching him. 

"Don't..." Jimmy snapped.

"What?" Thomas muttered.

"Look away. I bloody hate it when you look away." 

That snapped his eyes back up, and there was the same sad stare, but then Jimmy's mouth twitched, and his smile grew wider as his eyes lit up along with it. "Better."

Thomas wondered if he might die, but he breathed on. And they fell into that familiar quiet, frozen in place, until slowly as if by gravity Jimmy's hand slipped off of Thomas' face. As his thumb fell away from Thomas' jaw, he whispered, "I think, I think I can sleep now."

"Good night, then," Thomas whispered back.


	41. Something

Thomas felt aflame the moment he spotted Jimmy. He was blushing, deeply, he felt it pricking at his skin the heat of it. He felt sweaty, and it was far too early in the day for it. He’d yet to take the stairs thirty or more times or had to deal with the unexpected turns of the day. 

It was early yet, the day barely started, the breakfast was in pots on Mrs. Patmore’s stove. The kitchen maid was just own her way down the stairs from doing up the fires. And all he could do was stare at Jimmy, the back of him, it wasn’t even his face yet — no sighting of his eyes, those cheeks, his mouth. No all he had was the back of his neck and that always lovely arse. 

But he could still feel Jimmy’s palm on his cheek, pressing and causing some sort of spell to weave into Thomas’ skin. He hadn’t slept, barely a wink, because it felt like some sort of lightning was still flickering inside of him from that moment. The touch, the touch of Jimmy on his skin, and the look Jimmy’s eyes. 

The oddest look. Thomas was lost to what it all meant. It was a beaming smile, satisfaction, there was smugness — not surprising from Jimmy but it was something different. Because there was something else flickering, shock, surprise, something else Thomas couldn’t read. Jimmy had been beaming, and then he’d been thinking, but the shine of his smile hadn’t flickered. The expression in his eyes just shifted, then it was like Jimmy was simply drinking in the moment and allowed time to lower his hand away from Thomas’ skin.

But it to Thomas time had stopped. Thomas was sure of it even if rationally he was quite aware it was impossible. Time stopped. He’d lost his inner tick. He always knew the time, the minute, the seconds. Always. But last night he lost it. Everything froze. He wasn’t sure if that moment been a minute or ten. Maybe longer, maybe just a blink of an eye. It felt motionless in his memory. Trapped in amber. He would never forget. It’d been sublime. He quite wanted to live in the memory of it. And it had him blushing.

“Why are you just standing there? Have you done the newspapers?” Carson bellowed. 

Thomas blinked at him. 

“Mr. Carson, I did them,” Jimmy called from the kitchen. Before Thomas could stop himself from looking their eyes met. Jimmy’s entire body language was screaming that Carson was an idiot, and why was he expecting Thomas to have done his job. 

Everything suddenly felt normal and it was quite jarring. 

“Very well…” Carson muttered and walked away. 

Thomas nodded. To Carson? To Jimmy? He felt like he was in two places suddenly. Jimmy’s room, with his hand on his face. But then Jimmy was standing in front of him, and he felt transported to the present. 

Jimmy was smirking at him as he moved even closer. Then it flickered away as a furrow appeared between Jimmy’s eyes and his hands reached for Thomas’ tie. 

“You’re crooked,” Jimmy chuckled. “It’s not because I kept you up?”

“What? No…” Thomas looked down, though it made it quite cross-eyed, and watched Jimmy’s hands as they fixed his tie. “I’m fine, really…” he muttered. 

“Well, now you are,” Jimmy said but instead of both his hands going back to where they belonged, his left hand found it’s way to Thomas' shoulder, quite near his neck, and he squeezed. “You’re quite fine, Mr. Barrow,” he said his voice sounding impossibly low. 

Thomas once had seen a cartoon in a paper that showed a man’s eyes bulging comically out of his face. He wondered if he looked like the human equivalent of it at that moment as he stared at Jimmy. He felt almost horrified and upended. 

“Breakfast is on,” Ivy chirped as she walked by and her voice made Jimmy jump. His entire body moved, his hand was gone, and his gaze was averted, and Thomas breathed out in relief. 

That seemed quite normal. Didn’t it? That was good, he thought, though he hated it. Hated the thought that Jimmy didn’t want to appear too chummy or close to him. But it was the way of things, that was just practicality. And Thomas realized he needed the distance, to try to catch his breath and deal with the emotions the night had made twist in his chest. So, he started to walk away, toward the servant’s hall but within a few steps, he felt body heat against his shoulder. Jimmy was right by his side. 

“She should wear a damn bell,” Jimmy grumbled. 

“I think we have enough of those around…” Thomas was shocked his voice wasn’t shaking. They took their seats, and Thomas decided it to find his porridge very distracting. But it didn’t work, as always he found himself glancing at Jimmy. 

And he looked quite serious. His head bent over his bowl, that furrow between his eyes. His jaw clenched the way it was when he was thinking hard about something. Thomas hoped it wasn’t still the grief that’d risen up about his mother. He’d thought he’d helped him lessen it the night before. He’d been smiling when Thomas left, that beaming expression. The one that kept Thomas awake and was making him swelter in his livery. The one that had him craving space from Jimmy but yearned for the opposite. Thomas reached for his tea, thankful it’d gone cold, hoping it would help keep his eyes away, but as he sipped it he couldn’t help a glance.

And caught Jimmy looking right at him. He wanted to look away, but it was no use that blue gaze had him trapped. Jimmy smiled, and Thomas hated how that made something light up inside of him, almost against his will. And it cleared away his confusion. It wasn’t important. The irritation he felt at himself for feeling overwhelmed faded away. 

It wasn’t anything, the touching, Thomas thought. It was nothing. He just let Jimmy overwhelm him, his emotions got the best of him. This wasn’t unusual. He knew that. The only difference was he’d been there for his friend last night. Jimmy was grateful. So, he let his mouth twitch a bit, let Jimmy see it but he wouldn’t smile now, not in the servant’s hall with everyone else around. As always. It was a bit of a game. Jimmy trying to make him break his Under Butler mask. Their always. Suddenly, he felt quite content and started eating his breakfast in earnest. 

Everything was status quo.

~~~

Except for the touching. 

First, it was his back. 

He was outside smoking, his back turned to the house, looking at the sky. The clouds were low and gray against a blue sky. He was quite enjoying the contrast and the beauty of it when he heard the familiar crunch of gravel under Jimmy’s shoes. He knew the sound of him. He knew Jimmy’s presence. He’d never mistake him for anyone else, he couldn’t really. He knew him. Too well. He expected Jimmy to come up beside him, on his left, and start complaining about something or other. 

Instead, he felt Jimmy’s hand on his back pressing against him. Palm flat as it rose up to his shoulder, squeezing him much like that morning before Ivy had made him jump away. It wasn’t a light touch, it was solid, heavy even. Jimmy’s hand was leading the way, but then his body was behind Thomas bumping him as Jimmy finally appeared at his side, to his left, as always, but he was leaning into him with his hand sliding down Thomas’ arm until it reached air. Then they stood crashed together. It was like Jimmy was trying to stand in the space Thomas filled. 

“Ivy burned something for dinner, Mrs. Patmore is in an uproar, Ivy’s crying her eyes out and Daisy looks at me and tells me to do something about it? Like what am I’m supposed to? So, I told her to stop bloody moaning, and that just made it worse….”

There was the complaint, and there was his face. The usual scowl that Thomas probably shouldn’t find so attractive. The usual squint into the sun and a shake of his head. Then another grumble. “Why do you always look into the sun?”

“This is the direction of the sky…” he heard himself mutter.

“I guess, the house is in the way the other direction.” Jimmy’s hand, the one that had been on Thomas’ body went into his pocket and produced his lighter. 

“When was the last time I had that?” Thomas heard himself joke, but he felt very far away. He was trying to figure out what was going on because Jimmy was acting like nothing different was at all. 

“Ages ago,” Jimmy smirked. “Come on give me a smoke.”

Thomas shook his head. So what if Jimmy was standing a bit closer, whatever. He’d touched him a bit more than usual. Twice in the same day. They were closer, they’d gotten closer last night. Hadn’t they? Maybe this was normal. Something beautiful had happened last night. That was good right? His friend was good. Grateful? 

“You’re feeling better? Thomas heard himself ask. 

Jimmy laughed. “Slept didn’t I?”

“Good…good…” Thomas nodded and decided that was that. 

~~~

Only…

“Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Barrow.” Jimmy winked as he spotted Thomas going up the stairs as he was on his way back down. 

“Jim…” Thomas started to speak his name, his usual greeting as they passed each other during their duties. Only it got lost in his throat as Jimmy’s hand pressed down onto his shoulder the second they were close enough to touch. 

It was a swift little pat. It was a small gesture. It wasn’t anything at all really. But it felt huge to Thomas. It was such a shift. He faltered for a moment on the stairs and had to grip the railing. He glanced back and saw Jimmy looking at him and their eyes met. Jimmy smiled and that unsettled Thomas enough he turned and hurried up the stairs. 

He was overreacting. He was quite sure of it, and he felt stupid about it. Jimmy was being friendly, he was being thankful. He was being familiar. He’d seen him and Alfred slap each other on the back and touch each other’s arms a time or two. Jealous of the ease of which they did it… because it meant nothing to them. It was nothing to them. Nothing at all. Just two lads joking about, being mates. 

He and Jimmy were mates but… 

Thomas couldn’t touch, he couldn’t touch without it being something. 

He’d made Jimmy uncomfortable in the past with his touches. His very probing touches. He blushed now, feeling shame as he remembered it. He’d been far too forward and too familiar with Jimmy. Taking his lack of anger and upset as confirmation there might be something there. That he might be attracted to Thomas as well. But they’d been strangers, and he never should have kept it up. Because his quiet wasn’t an answer. But spurred on by O’Brien he’d kept it up and taken Jimmy’s kindness when Sybil died and pushed it even further until his hopes were dashed. 

He should stop this change in behavior. Even though it was nothing on Jimmy’s end. It’s friendliness. A thank you for Thomas being there for him, and maybe this meant that Jimmy found their friendship important to him. Not as important as it was to Thomas but important…

Though he knew that, he’d felt it before. In London. He shivered and remembered the other times Jimmy touched him… But all those times been out of sight and when they were fully alone. Slight little things, subtle and at times Thomas wondered if they’d even been there or little daydreams he had because his heart never listened to his brain.

But this public. This was in daylight. It meant nothing to Jimmy but everything to him. It made him angry for a moment. Irritation spreading through him. How something harmless and wanted was something he would have to give up. He would have to stop it, and push it away, take away the gift…

Not that Jimmy understood it’d been a gift. 

Jimmy wasn’t thinking, he was acting, he was being — _him_. Bold and bright and kinder than he seemed. Thomas’ chest felt heavy, and he sucked in his cheeks in irritation. He had to stop it. He had little choice. But the reasons he was telling himself it had to happen were a bit of lie. 

Yes. He couldn’t allow it, because he wouldn’t allow anyone to speak about Jimmy the way they spoke about him. They thought he never heard them but he did. He knew what they said, he knew what their looks meant. He knew every one of Carson’s veiled little jabs were because he wanted men. Jimmy couldn’t be forward with him the way he was being… 

He just couldn’t. 

But that was his excuse — as good and right as it was — because the truth was it was too much, it was just too much for him. Being friends, only friends, was hard enough on his heart. Too much familiarity with his hands and Jimmy would end him, tempt him, his hope would rise…

And he fought to kept them level. 

“Tonight, you’ll tell him…” Thomas muttered aloud to himself to make the decision concrete.


	42. Shaken Up

Thomas paced his room, bare feet against the floorboards. It felt a bit like his room sloped down toward his closet. It had been like that for years now, he thought and wondered briefly it was just his room. Or all the attic rooms where they hid the servants. He doubted anything sloped in the Crawley’s copious rooms, some of which they never entered. He’d seen more of the house than of the daughters or probably his Lordship himself, despite Lord Grantham having been born between its walls. 

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. He was keeping his mind busy because he wasn’t sure what was going to happen when Jimmy opened the door and walked in. He glanced at his clock, ticking beside his bed. It told him what he already knew it would happen any second now. He was always prepared, learning a long time ago it was best for him to be when Jimmy barged inside. It wasn’t an exact science of course given Jimmy’s impulsive nature, or him forgetting his ‘bookmark’ in Thomas’ books. But there were certain times of the day where it was most likely and for well — longer than Thomas could pinpoint with his memory, Jimmy found his way into Thomas bedroom before he finally set foot in his own to climb to bed. Sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes an hour — occasionally longer. The sun catching up with them and the two of the hurrying to attempt a least an hour sleep and feeling the foolish the next morning. 

Those visits, those talks. Thomas felt a dawning awareness. The constancy of them, the comfortableness of them.... Thomas nearly started panicking. How had this become his life? Was Jimmy Kent truly a nightly visitor to his bedroom? Did they really talk away the dark of night? He hurried to his pitcher of water and poured some into a bowl and splashed his face, his face felt hot, and he felt odd. A bit how he’d felt throughout the day. Jimmy’s forwardness, the small touches, under his skin and almost making him feel as if he should jump outside of it. But this, these visits, he hadn’t been thinking about them. 

No, he had lived them. He had gotten used to the patterns. Ones he and Jimmy created. In the friendship that gave his days reason and his mind peace. But tonight he felt anything but peaceful, and he wondered if maybe the shift he’d been feeling between them the last few days had started sooner? That it wasn’t new at all, it was just suddenly punching him in his face. 

His door flew open. _I’m not ready._ But there Jimmy was smirking at Thomas and holding up the bottle of brandy Thomas left in his room — two days ago, now? It felt longer, Thomas nodded at it and felt his eyebrow raise and wondered how he was behaving so normally and then he wondered when they’d formed the ability to talk without words.

“Why not?” Jimmy said and slid down Thomas' wall by the closed door. 

“You seemed…tense today, though a drink might do you some good. I mean if it’s good for His Lordship why not us?” 

“I suppose…” he said, but he stayed where he was, oddly placed in the middle of his room, feeling scratchy inside his skin, and not knowing what to do with his arms. He crossed them over his chest and tried not to look at Jimmy. 

“And you still seem tense,” Jimmy said after a moment.

Thomas’ eyes found him, they always found him, and saw Jimmy looking up at him, his blue eyes dark in the dim light, curls over his eyes. He looked sleepy and comfortable in the white vest he was wearing. It suited him more than his livery, it wasn’t the first time he'd thought that. Jimmy looked like himself in his underclothes, in the hours before they went to bed… 

This was the real Jimmy Kent. 

“Thomas?” he stood up, dropped the bottle — closed thankfully — onto Thomas bed and was standing soon in the middle of the room with him. “What is it?”

“What?” Thomas asked and then remembered he had things to say, he had to tell Jimmy to stop touching him so intimately. That he shouldn’t be doing such things downstairs, while they were on duty — or at all. At all. It was far too much for him to handle. Embarrassment flooded him, heating his cheeks again and he felt like such a fool. Letting emotions and attraction rule him. He felt too much, all the time, sometimes he was quite sure he would burst with it… so he learned to hide it under smirks and petty comments. But he can’t do that with Jimmy. Jimmy knew him too well and lashing out wasn’t what he wanted to do and oddly, he realized, he wouldn't know how. Not with Jimmy, not even when he’d tossed Thomas into this precarious position without any thought — because that was Jimmy. Thoughtless. And maybe he should be angry, Jimmy should know what his touch might do to him? Why was he even doing it? 

“Thomas?” Jimmy sounded worried. “Hey,” his hand was Thomas by his neck by his shoulder, missing the fabric of his vest completely. All skin and his thumb was stroking his skin. Thomas’ eyes closed and plummetted himself into darkness. It served to make him more aware of Jimmy's touch, and he felt like he was lost in the water. He'd forgotten what he knew about Jimmy and how to keep him tame. He laughed at himself, it came out his throat… _Tame him._

“Okay, it’s funny?” Jimmy asked. 

Thomas' eyes opened. They were standing so close. Jimmy smiled. “So, I take it you do need the brandy?”

“Just a bit,” Thomas said.

“Anything happen? Is it Carson?”

“No more than usual.”

“You’re sure?” Jimmy asked, and his hand was squeezing. 

Thomas' eyes glanced toward, not that could really see it, where it was on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. But he saw Jimmy’s arm, the muscles of the forearms and looked back and caught Jimmy looking too, at where they were touching, at where he was touching Thomas. His stroked his thumb against Thomas’s skin again and cleared his throat. 

Their eyes met, together, in a moment of perfect unison. Jimmy’s eyes were dark, and his mouth wasn’t curled into a smirk it was something more serious, more serious than Thomas ever remembered seeing it before. He watched as Jimmy’s tongue curl out of his mouth, and he licked his lips, then his hand was gone, and Thomas nearly whimpered. But he really had no chance too because Jimmy was now holding his hand. 

“Come on,” he gripped Thomas’ hand tightly and pulled him back toward the wall, so they could sit next to each other, side by side and have their bit of brandy. “I’m too tired to stay up all night, so we better to get to it, right?”

“We stay up late like that often?” Thomas asked that newer awareness of their actions floating in and around them. 

“Been quite a few long nights, not complaining, just not as young as I used to be,” Jimmy laughed.

Thomas rolled his eyes and settled on the floor. Jimmy nudged into him and then opened the bottle of brandy and took a gulp of it. “I like this stuff, I’ve got o say.”

“Yeah, it’s worth more than everything you own,” Thomas laughed and took the bottle from him. 

“Must be why I like it… tend to love things above my station.” 

Something sour curdled in Thomas’ stomach. “Like Lady Anstruther,” he said, proud of himself for sounding teasing. 

“No, I didn’t mean her at all,” Jimmy snapped. 

Thomas met his eyes. “Jimmy?”

“Sorry…” Jimmy sighed and let his head the wall behind him, the thump was familiar to Thomas. How often had he heard it? On these nights, the two of them talking before they gave into the thought of sleep? It was all new and old in his head, he was spinning and spinning. “Guess, I’m just tense too.”

“Suppose so…” Thomas drank more of the brandy before handing it back to him. “We should save a bit for another night.”

“Always so sensible, Mr. Barrow,” Jimmy laughed, but it sounded tinged with sadness. 

“One of us needs to be,” Thomas said, but he didn’t feel sensible. He felt the opposite of it because he wasn’t going to ask him to stop with the touching nor to be careful about it. And he knew he should, but he just didn’t feel like he had the strength for it. 

“We should,” Jimmy swallowed and then closed the bottle up and sat it down on the floor in front of them, only it toppled over and rolled down the slope Thomas noticed earlier. Thomas watched the way the amber liquid sloshed and thought that was him. He was a bottle and Jimmy was still finding ways to shake him up.


	43. Shifting

Thomas wasn’t quite sure when it happened but everyone rising from their chairs when he walked into the servant’s hall was beginning to lose its luster. It felt annoying at times because he was simply searching for a place to rest for a moment, or eat his breakfast or his tea. He quite needed his tea as he’d slept awfully, thoughts about Jimmy and their relationship rushing around in his head, getting mixed up with his dreams versus what he knew to be reality. If only he could get the niggle located in his heart that was whispering that he needed to reevaluate, he needed to open his eyes and see something more clearly. 

It was mad. 

“Good morning, Mr. Barrow.” Jimmy smirked at him from across the table, teacup rising up toward his mouth to cover the twitch of his lips. 

Thomas’ stomach flipped, not an odd sensation in the least but this time wasn’t only the quirk of Jimmy’s mouth or the way his eyes seemed to dance with mischief. It was the tone of his voice, the way he was staring right Thomas as if they were alone in room — _he’s not doing that._ Thomas busied himself with fixing his own cup of tea, giving Jimmy only a cursory nod in return and wished away his wishful thinking. 

~~~

By design, he managed not to see Jimmy for hours. But being his own worst enemy, he found himself walking the path to the spot in the woods Jimmy made his own when he knew his friend would be there. Sure enough, as his feet crunched on the branches on the ground, Jimmy looked up from his writing. A piece of loose paper he would fold into the journal. Soon the binding would be stretched Thomas thought, but he wasn’t surprised Jimmy held so many thoughts inside of him… 

If only he could read them. Maybe it would help to bring him down to reality. _That’s not your hope._ He pushed the dream away but noticed Jimmy was grinning. Quite widely and his face seemed to glow, and that was just the sunshine. The sun on the sun, how could it not glow and Thomas tried to fight the smile that threatened him because Jimmy’s were contagious and he didn’t want to be the mood where he smiled. 

Jimmy hopped off the rock, getting to his feet and cleared his throat. “Thought you were avoiding me, Mr. Barrow.”

Thomas sighed. He was caught. 

“Yeah, I thought so…” 

It was his opening. It was his chance to tell Jimmy to pull back with the touching, maybe even the smiling, it all seemed so much more suddenly. But what it was all in his head. No. No. He didn’t want it to stop that was all… 

He was weak.

“Thomas?”

“I’m just tired, Jimmy.”

It was a blink of time, but Thomas watched it. Jimmy strode toward him, it was less than two steps, and he was inside Thomas’s space, his breath on his cheek and Jimmy was studying his face — seriously, quite seriously, his jaw tight and his eyes full of concern. Thomas gulped at the sight of it all, and then Jimmy’s hand was on his shoulder. 

It was too much.

Thomas stepped backward, watched Jimmy’s eyes widen with more worry but he stepped back again. Again and until he turned. 

“Thomas…” his name was on the air.

He fled the sound. 

~~~

It was an hour later. He walked into the boot room, randomly really, noticing it was empty and thinking it’d be a safer place to take a small break before heading back upstairs. Only there was movement behind him, and the door closed. He turned, and Jimmy was standing there and an unhappy scowl on his face, the middle of brow creased over his nose. He huffed and opened his mouth but no words came out, and then Jimmy ducked his head and sighed. 

“What are you doing?” Thomas asked. 

“What am I doing?” Jimmy snapped, head up again, and his blue eyes looked furious. 

Thomas felt fury rise up in himself. He was the one who should be angry, he was quite sure he was the one meant to be angry. He just wasn’t sure what it was he was mad about… 

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Don’t pretend your daft, Thomas.” 

“I don’t know what you're going on about.”

“You ran off, Thomas.” Jimmy shook his head and an all the anger seemed to wash out of him, and Thomas wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Jimmy’s mood shift so quickly. “I just… you said you were tired, and you look it and then you were gone.”

“I needed to get back.”

“That wasn’t needing to go back… did I…” Jimmy stepped closer. 

Thomas stepped back, but the counter behind him stopped his progress and Jimmy was in breathing distance, so close Thomas could smell him, and he wondered if he could find the ability to speak any words that might get Jimmy to back away from him. 

“Thomas…” his voice was low and perfect in Jimmy’s mouth. And a hand was on his neck, so close to his neck, fingers in his hair. “I…”

Thomas eyes closed. 

“I want…” Jimmy’s breath was his cheek, and he coughed as if swallowing words. 

Thomas willed himself to open his eyes and fell into deep blue pools, Jimmy's eyes were wide, they were sparking, but with something, Thomas couldn’t recognize. He gulped. 

“Tonight…” Jimmy started. 

“What is this!” Carson’s voice bellowed. 

Both of them jumped, Thomas in the only direction he had to the side and Jimmy backward before spinning to face Carson. Thomas felt like his heart was his throat and sick to his stomach at the look on Carson’s face. At the things, he was sure the man was imagining. 

“What are you two doing in here…” Carson’s deep voice laced with accusation. 

“Talking, Mr. Carson,” Jimmy said. “Mr. Barrow was asking me if I remembered to do the pantry inventory.”

“I was,” Thomas heard himself but he sounded far away and quite unsure. 

“I see…” Carson glared and then stepped aside. “I suggest you both get to your duties.” 

The two of the hurried past Carson. In the hall, they paused, for a brief second their eyes meeting. Thomas felt sick at the fear and worry he saw Jimmy’s expression. He looked pale and possibly as off balance of Thomas felt. But he smiled, he smiled at Thomas even as he shook his head a bit and then walked off. 

Thomas watched him for a beat. 

“Mr. Barrow.”

Thomas' heart sank at the sound of Carson in his ear. 

“Is there anything I should know about?” 

Thomas won the battle against rolling his eyes. “Of course not, Mr. Carson,” he said, quite evenly and he walked off — in the opposite direction Jimmy took. He was shaking, adrenaline rushing in his blood, he was sure there was a buzz in his ears. 

The situation warranted Carson’s suspicion. Thomas couldn’t deny it. He didn’t want to deny it. But that was because he wanted it to mean more than it did — he would have to find the strength to tell Jimmy to stop being so familiar. Why was he being so bloody familiar? He could ask that he supposed, but wouldn’t dare? What if Jimmy wasn’t even aware? It was just a growth of their friendship, it wasn’t some monumental shift between them. 

He wanted it to be. It was the cause of all the buzzing and all the wishful thinking causing his thoughts to go around in circles upon circles. Maybe things were different, perhaps he wasn’t imagining everything — anything? It would all amount to very little in the end. They would remain friends, after he asked Jimmy to stop being so forward with this touching.

He hoped he wouldn’t blush to red with the embarrassment. There was no way to bring it up without admittance of deeper feelings, and Jimmy knew him too well. Thomas sighed and hoped he’d find the inner strength. This couldn’t happen again — if Carson saw them like that again….

He might not listen when Thomas told him there was nothing to be concerned about.

~~~

Jimmy was late. 

Thomas stopped pacing when his internal clock gave him the information, and he found himself sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees, his eyes on his door. His heart was in the back of his throat, he felt queasy and sweaty. It’d be nice to believe he might just be coming down with something. Or that it was due to his lack of sleep the night before. But he felt on a precipice, he was standing on shaky ground, and something was going to happen that would flip him onto his back or worse. 

He felt it in his bones. 

He stared at the door and wondered if it would be Jimmy not showing up. He was probably shaken by what happened with Carson himself. Scared, maybe disgusted himself knowing what Carson had been thinking. Thomas pulled in his cheeks and felt a wave of pure loathing for Carson. Nothing had been happening but even if by some lucky grace there are had been — it wasn’t vile, it wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t something for concern. Thomas moved and clenched his fists into his bedding, hating the world for hating him. 

But there was no way to change it. 

This could shock Jimmy off their friendship, he could pull away from him. Thomas felt sick and laughed a bit. All week he’d been wracking his brain, trying to find a way to ask Jimmy to back away. But he hadn’t meant entirely. Not all the way. He needed Jimmy’s friendship, it was all he was allowed, and he craved it. Was greedy for it. It was his reason for living…

He put too much onto them, what they shared, he knew it. But there was no changing it. 

Thomas looked at the door. Almost ten minutes now. He wasn’t coming. Carson scared him away with his booming voice and wild assumptions. Thomas sighed and felt something crack inside of him…

And it instantly snapped back when the door opened. 

Thomas stood up and met Jimmy’s gaze.

He stood just inside the door, straighter than usual and looked surprised to find himself there. Thomas felt a wave of deja vu to the moment he looked up from a newspaper after the beating. He flew that moment, to the second time Jimmy changed his entire world… 

The first monumental shift. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy whispered and quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m sorry…”

Thomas shook his head, confused because that wasn’t what he’d been expecting — at least he didn’t think it was? He wasn’t at all sure what he expected any more from Jimmy. It was ever surprising, especially of late. 

“I’ve been… too forward, and it’s been… I’m not stupid. I just didn’t that to be why you were distant….” Jimmy choked out a strangled laugh then sighed. “Carson wasn't too hard on you was he?”

“No…” Thomas shrugged. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to. 

“Bad enough.”

“He jumped to crazy assumptions.”

Another choked laugh. “….yeah crazy,” he muttered.

“Right,” Thomas agreed. 

Jimmy shook his head. 

“I accept the apology though…” 

“I’ll be more careful.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, and the disappointment was a weight on his shoulders. It was over. He wouldn’t feel the intimacy of Jimmy in his space again… he just hoped he never forgot the sensations. The feel of his breath, his smell, his heat. Thomas closed his eyes, his mind trying to recall it all now, quickly, to place it on his memory. 

He heard feet against wood. 

He gasped when he felt breath against his cheek. 

A hand on the back of his neck. 

He startled when Jimmy’s forehead hit his own.

Jimmy laughed, the warmth of the sound and his breath against Thomas’ nose making him shiver. 

“Jimmy?”

“You know, right?”

“What?”

“I’m different, Thomas… maybe always was.”

Thomas' eyes flew open. He was nothing but confusion.

Jimmy stared into his eyes, his thumb stroked the back Thomas neck. They stood, like that, so close, Jimmy felt almost inside of him. He wondered if he was breathing. After a few minutes, Jimmy sighed, it sounded impatient, and so much like him, it made Thomas smile. 

“Yeah…um. Not where anyone can see, I get that now....” Jimmy promised, and then he stepped backward. “Goodnight, Thomas.”


	44. First Kiss

There was once a time Thomas dreamt of Jimmy every night. Underneath him, skin on skin, panting breaths into each other’s mouths and he'd wake up hot, kicking at his bedclothes and taking himself in hand, eyes closed tightly and reminding himself none of was real as he remembered the feel of the dream and it made everything inside of him tighten then explode. 

The upside of that time was Jimmy would never look him in the eye, so after waking with such primal images of the two of them, he never had to worry about facing the object of his sexual fantasies in the eye. Once Jimmy started speaking with him the dreams faded away….

Slowly as the months passed, Thomas stopped dreaming about them slick and panting, and when he dreamt of Jimmy, it was less visceral and hazier. It was them laughing, smoke from cigarettes curled around them, absurd versions of their daily conversations coming out of their mouths and occasional maybe there would be a press of Jimmy’s mouth against his own. They were sweet and woke him with smiles and the ability to look his friend in the eye and not feel like his feelings would tumble out of his skin and suffocate them both. 

Though of course there were times he feared that, quite often, but then his emotions always waved through him with such urgency he wondered how he managed to keep everything under the surface of his skin. 

Thomas stared at his ceiling, his cock hard against his stomach, wet and aching. On the edge of hurt. The dream that woke him still bright his wakefulness not creating the haze and fading that usually occurred with waking. Though that was often the case with his more primal dreams, the more driven by his cravings and needs they were the more they stayed sharp in his mind. He hadn’t dreamed of them naked in a long while, and he’d never imagined Jimmy being the one curved over him, pinning him down into the bed. 

Or was it a wall? 

Thomas' eyes fluttered shut as he remembered it was both. It was them in the boot room, Thomas pressed against the counter and Jimmy too close, touching him, breathing on him, his smell the only smell in the room — even above the polish. And Jimmy kissed him, and Thomas gasped — he touched his lips now and rose his hips but couldn’t bring himself to touch himself. He was always the predator in his dreams, taking from Jimmy and awed Jimmy was letting him until his consciousness caught up with the fact it was a dream. 

The dream had been his room too and Jimmy’s voice echoed in his head. _I’m different, Thomas… maybe always was._ before he pressed his mouth to Thomas’ cheek, the corner of his mouth until they were kissing again and Jimmy was moving them until they fell on the bed, rutted against him and stared into his eyes and whispered, “You know.” 

Thomas alarm started its tinny screeching, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Noticing the shadows that crowded his ceiling when he’d woken were long gone. The dream kept his lost, maybe he’d been half asleep in the remembering of it. He groaned and realized he would have to ignore his cock, there would be an ache in his lower gut all day and how was going to look at Jimmy. 

He wasn’t meant to be dreaming such things. 

~~~

It became Summer.

Thomas walked outside into the heat and felt the constriction his tie. He fought down the urge to tug at it and loosen. His day was far from done, and he must remain pristine. No matter the sun was hot against his skin and hotter against the black of his suit. He breathed in the air deeply and let out a pained sigh. He’d always been more of a winter person, performing cold and snow or even a cold rain to the heat. But Jimmy smelled like summer, and it turned out he quite liked the smell — though he’d never noticed it before in his life. Until the first time, Jimmy been near his nose and hadn’t been able to stop himself inhaling to find out if he smelled as good as he looked. 

He had of course. 

It was bringing back his dreams. The ones he’d been having for weeks now. The two of them kissing, Jimmy always the instigator, crawling over him and pushing him against things and down onto beds… It was their mouths though, slotted together, lips and tongue and teeth, leaving Thomas to wake up aroused and confused and guilty. 

Not about the dreams but about Jimmy. They were meant to be friends, only friends, Thomas respected Jimmy’s limits. He'd always been clear he couldn’t be what Thomas wanted…

Or he'd once been clear. 

Things were different between them, Thomas knew it now, but he couldn’t allow himself to believe it was anything else. It would hurt too much when the reality crashed back down Jimmy still felt the same… even if his actions seemed to say the opposite. In ways, Jimmy was acting downright bizarre, and Thomas wasn’t all sure how to take all the things Jimmy wasn’t saying…

Because that was the issue really, Jimmy was speaking in halves. He wasn’t finishing sentences and sometimes impatience would creep across his features, and he'd walk away from Thomas ending whatever bizarre conversation they were having — that Jimmy started. Sometimes he looked angry as he stalked away and other times sad and disappointed. 

The disappointment haunted Thomas. 

The angry annoyed him because Jimmy wouldn’t shout and maybe if he shouted Thomas wouldn’t feel so bewildered all the time. 

He lifted his head up to the sun and leaned against the brick of the alcove, finding the shade to try to stay at least a bit cool. He could go back inside, but he wanted quiet, and the downstairs was never quiet. He would only have about a minute of peace, he thought as he fished out his cigarette and lit it with his matches — his lighter in Jimmy’s pocket of course. As he smoked, his eyes were half on the door wondering if he was looking forward to Jimmy’s appearance or dreading it. 

He wouldn’t be able to meet his eyes. Not after waking hard with Jimmy’s name on his lips. 

Seconds later Jimmy was striding toward him. He looked tired and leaned heavily against the brick, his shoulder leaned right into Thomas and let out a loud annoyed sigh. “I wanted to stay in bed… it’s nice out at least.”

“Too hot.”

“Too bad we can’t go swimming…” Jimmy groused. 

Thomas found himself smiling at the idea of and found his mind plotting a way to make it happen before he started second guessing if he should. He wasn’t confident he could handle the sight of a wet Jimmy Kent. He glanced at him, thankful Jimmy was busy lighting a cigarette. Allowed him to stare a bit longer than he should enjoy the planes of his cheekbones and the squint of his eyes. The shape of his mouth as he held the cigarette between his lips. The feeling of those lips against his filled him and reminded himself it was only dreams, it was a ghost touch, it wasn’t real and never would be. 

Jimmy leaned back and fought and lost the battle to yawn. He groaned as he finished. “I keep having these dreams…” he said. 

Thomas felt seen. “What?”

“Maybe it’s the heat, you know, but I keep having these dreams. They’re so real.”

“Oh?” 

“Do you remember yours?”

“N..n..NO.” 

Jimmy stared at him for a moment before turning away. “It’s… Do you remember your first kiss?”

Thomas raised his eyebrow. 

“It’s… I keep dreaming about my first kiss. Which was rubbish. I mean I didn’t know it at the time, but it was rubbish. But it’s different, and it’s not her. It’s this entirely different person….” Jimmy ducked his head down and sighed. “So, I was thinking about it, that first rubbish kiss. It was this girl, from school, she wore her hair differently than all the other girls — I guess that was why I liked her but she wasn’t different at all. Not really. But she liked me and were behind the school, in the spot you took someone if you wanted to be their sweetheart…. I wasn’t nervous, I was so certain, and I just kissed her, and she kissed me. I mean it was nothing really, our lips probably barely touched for all of a second. But she blushed this beet red, and I felt… Nothing. At all. But I had to pretend, I had to brag to my friends and act like she mattered, you know, I pretended… I pretended.”

Thomas felt sad the story seemed sad, though that wasn’t the impression Thomas was getting. Yet it seemed sad, and he wondered if first kiss stories were meant to be sad? Probably not, though he wasn’t at all sure what they were meant to be. 

“I just… I’ve always felt I got it wrong, you know. Felt like weren’t kisses meant to mean something… the first one was meant to be important, and I’d gone in thinking it would be. But it wasn’t. I don’t even remember her name, just her hair…Do you remember yours?”

“My first kiss? It was Cynthia Harden, and it wasn’t anything to write home about.” 

“I mean your real first kiss, Thomas.”

“Was the girl with the hair your real first kiss?” Thomas asked to delay having to answer the real question, though wasn’t quite sure what it was. “Because if kissing a girl and it being rubbish is yours, we’re quite even, Jimmy.”

Jimmy laughed, threw his head back baring his neck, his deep musical laugh filling the air. “Fair point… fine. Maybe it wasn’t the first real kiss…” he sighed. “But that means we’re talking Anstruther for me I really rather forget that ever happened.” His mouth twisted into a scowl. “Though it wasn’t all that life-changing either…”

Thomas hummed and looked back toward the sky. All clear and blue, unlike his insides. His mind was in his dreams, the two of them kissing, breathing into each other and it felt life-changing, and it wasn’t even real… 

“Tell me about the first man, Thomas.”

Thomas sighed. 

“I do want to know before you try to argue I don’t.” 

“Why?” Thomas asked him, turning his head to meet Jimmy’s eyes. Before remembering that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to see those blue eyes and the depths of them. He was back in the dream, where Jimmy stared into him, while his body was crushing Thomas’s into a bed and both of them could barely breathe. How did it feel so real? His cheek heated but he couldn’t bring himself to avert his eyes. He was drinking in Jimmy’s face, feeling blinded by his beauty… It was always like the first time.

Impatience flickered in Jimmy’s eyes before cooling down into something that seemed almost sad. “I just…do.” 

“It was right before I came to Downton. I’d left home, and I went to London first, before I realized I preferred the north… I wanted, I wanted to see other men like me and I heard about the clubs. Rumors really but I followed one, it turned out to almost true. But it led me where I wanted to be. It was this club, smokey and dark, loud and men… I felt out of place, it wasn’t really a good place, to be honest. One man saw me, he bought me a few drinks, he wasn’t much older than me, he told me I should find safer places until I knew what I was doing. Guess I looked out as out place as I felt. Though, I also didn’t feel all that out of place. It was strange and relieving to be able to truly look at other men… and the man, he was nice, and he kissed me. Just at the table where we sat, it was nice, and I knew. I knew I was right about what I am… but it wasn’t perfect.” 

“I want…” Jimmy whispered.

“What?” Thomas wasn’t sure he heard him right, it was happening again. 

“I mean… don’t you want perfect?”

_I’ve been dreaming it every night._

“My dreams…”

It was like an echo. 

“The dreams the person with me behind that school, I think that….” Jimmy stopped. 

Irritation flared. “Would you stop doing that?” 

Jimmy scowled impatience in the entire way he moved his body. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“It’s… YOU,” Jimmy growled. “YOU…” he spat again and stalked off. 

Thomas stared after him both relieved and hurt he was leaving.


End file.
